Helping Hand
by Mislav
Summary: Set post season twelve. Spoilers for the season finale. As the team deals with the loss of Stephen Walker, and Spencer tries to move on following his release from prison, they are assigned to investigate the case of two serial killers, active at the same time, in the same area of Detroit. Case!fic. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of Criminal Minds characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **This story takes place somewhere early in season thirteen, a few episodes in, sometime in October. Spencer is trying to adjust to normal life after his stay in prison, while he and the other are still recovering from the loss of Stephen Walker. (Since Damon Gupton is leaving the show, it is very likely that it will be revealed that Stephen Walker died in a car crash featured in season twelve finale.) A new team member that is supposed to be featured in season thirteen, Matt Simmons, is featured in this story, but not heavily. I know that the cliffhanger probably took place way prior to October, but if it isn't stated directly, it can be assumed it took place later, in August or September, for example. I** **know that Penelope is usually the one presenting the cases, but personally, I prefer when the unit chief is doing it.**

 **I hope that the new season will address Spencer's prison experience, his struggle, and feature more actual profiling. If only I could become a writer for the show...**

 **Cast**

 **Daniel Henney as Matthew "Matt" Simmons**

 **Heather Morris as Jennifer Heffernan**

 **Page Kennedy as detective John Caal**

 **Beth Behrs as officer Aubrey Bellick**

 **Emmy Clarke as M.E.#1**

 **Daniel Manche as M.E.#2**

 **Joel David Moore as Jack Teeger**

 **Maite Schwartz as Kendra Barlow**

 **Tiffany Hines as Sheila Johnson**

 **Wallace Little as Carl Taylor**

 **Michael Cerveris as Jake Adams**

 **Frank Whaley as Brian Keller**

 **Jamie Anne Allman as Mandy Dacey**

 **LeToya Luckett as Tracy Tanner**

 **Courtney Thorne-Smith as Christine Hodgins**

 **Jim Parsons as Chris Benes**

 **Conor Leslie as Lyndsay Benes**

 **Susie Essman as Stephanie Smith**

 **Monet Mazur as Brittany Smith**

 _Spencer shuddered as he saw two prisoners, short bulky man and a large dark-haired man, walk into his cell, eying him suspiciously._

 _"What's up, snitch?" the shorter one asked. Spencer felt a shiver go down his spine. Before he could even think of what to say, the prisoner continued. "Was that your girlfriend?"_

 _"She's my friend," Spencer answered, trying to appear calm._

 _"You never got any?" The large man spat out. He walked over to Spencer. "What's wrong with you, man?" He groaned, grabbing Spencer by his jumpsuit and pulling him off the bunk. He pinned him against the near by wall, while the shorter prisoner followed, pulling a towel over Spencer's mouth in order to muffle his screams._

 _Spencer felt a panic take him over, his heart beating so fast that his chest hurt. The stronger prisoner started punching him in the stomach. The third prisoner was just in the hallway, near the cell, mopping the floor; he glanced at them, but didn't do anything. Spencer screamed against the towel, feeling a pain rip through his muscles, his lungs fighting for air. He was writhing desperately, trying to break free, but he couldn't._

 _They drag him to the other end of the cell and pinned him on the bunk, as the third prisoner, the one outside the cell, just watched. The bigger prisoner grinned at Spencer, menacingly..._

Spencer jolted awake in his bed, gasping for breath, his face and hair covered with sweat, his heart thundering against his chest. It took him several seconds to figure out where he was. He sighed in relief and rubbed his eyes, realizing that he was in his apartment, in his bedroom. Alone. Bright sunbeams shone over his face. He took a deep breath, feeling a chilly autumn air wash over him. He had been keeping his bedroom door open as of lately. It made him feel more... comfortable.

He slid his hands off his face, and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Five am. He woke up an hour early. Well, at least he managed to get some sleep last night...

Luckily, he didn't have the time to think about his dream. A minute after he woke up, his ringtone went off. He picked up the phone from his bedside table and read the text.

 _From: Emily_

 _We've got a case. It's urgent. Be at headquarters first thing this morning. Are you doing OK?"_

Spencer sighed, crawled out of the bed, and headed to the bathroom. He didn't plan on having a breakfast before going to work; just coffee. He felt nauseated. He also decided not to text back.

#

By eight am, all team members were sitting in the round table room, around the table, studying the case files on their tablets. Spencer, finishing his third cup of coffee, also used a tablet, rather than a paper file. "Life's too short", he said to Garcia, about a week ago. She hugged him and quickly gave him that strangely complicated gadget. And a stuffed unicorn. The unit chief, Emily Prentiss, was standing next to the screen on the wall, a remote in her hand.

"Three days ago, three dead bodies were found on a deserted field in Auburn Hills, Detroit, Michigan, near the local forest," Emily exclaimed, as two crime scene photographs appeared on the screen. "The field was scheduled to be turned into a jogging path. Construction workers arrived there two days ago, early morning, along with several local reporters, and found the victims. Two men and one woman. They had all been stabbed repeatedly, over the chest and abdomen, and strangled with a ligature. No clothing, IDs or personal items found on the scene, or near by. They were all identified via fingerprints."

She clicked at the remote again, and three more photographs appeared on the screen, featuring those three victims, from the time they had still been alive; three mugshots, actually. The first one featured a young, Caucasian, brown haired man, the second one featured a middle aged African American man, while the third one featured a pale, blonde woman in her thirties. "Victim number one, to the left", Emily explained, glancing at the screen. "Twenty eight years old Chuck Winters. His fingerprints were in AFIS due to a conviction for vandalism back in 2012, and a conviction for burglary back in 2015," Emily explained. "Lived in Auburn Hills, alone, worked as an IT technician. Victim number two, Shermain Jones, forty two. In and out of prison for the most of his adult life. Multiple convictions for possession of narcotics, assault and pimping. And, lastly, Sharona Jenkins, thirty four. No last known address. Hasn't paid taxes over the last five years. Multiple arrests for solicitation."

"All three victims showed signs of torture," David read. "Bruises all over their bodies, multiple fractures, non-fatal lacerations over their arms and legs. The first victim also had his face and genitals mutilated, and his hands burned. Prior to his death, according to the M.E. report."

"All three victims also had taser burns on their right shoulder," Spencer read. "That must how the unsub subdued them."

"No blood or signs of a struggle found on the crime scene," Luke read. "Must be a secondary one. A dump site."

"Sharona Jenkins also had her right hand cut off, post mortem," Matt Simmons read.

"Yes... local news agency received it in their mail this morning," Emily said, cringing. She clicked at the remote, and a photograph of a severed hand, inside an envelope, appeared on the screen. "No return address, no fingerprints. On the envelope, I mean."

"This guy has really lost it," David muttered.

Spencer shifted in his seat, rubbing his eyes. He hoped nobody would notice the black marks under them. "The unsub could have a religious motivation for that"," he suggested. "Matthew 5:30. _"And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away."_ It may also be symbolic. Meant to represent stealing, or some other crime the victim might had committed."

"Judging by the lividity, Chuck Winters had been dead for about a month before his body was found," Luke read. "Sherman Jones had been dead for about two weeks. Sharona Jenkins had been dead for about a week."

"Autopsy reports indicate that all three victims were raped, repatedly," JJ read, frowning. "Two men and a woman. That is unusual."

"The unsub could be bisexual," Spencer suggested. "Or a sexual sadist who derives extreme pleasure from torturing, raping and murdering other people, men and women. There have been serial killers like that. Joseph Vacher, The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run, Charles Ray Hatcher, Andrei Chikatilo... Also, rape is mainly about control and power, especially in extremely brutal attacks like this. Sometimes, victim's gender simply doesn't matter."

David frowned. "But still, it's not just different genders. The victims seem to have pretty much nothing in common. Different ethnicities, height, build, hair and eye color, age, socioeconomic background, neighborhoods..." He sighed, looking over the documents on his tablet once again. "Sure, they all had a criminal record, but even that isn't much of a connection. Chuck had a small rap sheet for vandalism and burglary, but he otherwise seemed like an ordinary man. And though Shermain had a criminal record for possession of narcotics and pimping, and Sharona was a prostitute, there is no evidence that they knew each other."

"Well, it's still pretty early in the investigation," Tara pointed out. "Maybe something will turn up."

"Since all three victims had a criminal record, the unsub may be a moral vigilante," Matt Simmons suggested.

"Most of the vigilantes dump the victims on public locations, or simply leave them where they killed them," Luke pointed out. "They want to send a message."

"The bodies were found," Matt argued. "Many locals must have known about the plan to set up a jogging path on that field. The unsub could have timed the body disposal and the subsequent discovery of the bodies easily. And the unsub mailed the third victim's hand to the local news agency."

Tara frowned. "But still, the first victim was murdered a month ago. And this level of torture and sexual violence isn't very common among serial vigilantes. That is more along the lines of a sexual sadist, an opportunistic sexual predator. And the unsub seems to be working backwards. From a low-risk victim to high-risk victims."

"So, why is he killing these victims?" JJ asked out loud. "And how does he find them?"

"And why did he start with the low-risk victim, then moved on to the high-risk victims?" Spencer wondered.

"And that, sadly, is not all," Emily informed them, a sad look on her face. She clicked at the remote again, and a photograph of a young brown haired girl appeared on the screen. "On August 2nd, eight years old Heather Jensen went missing from 5 Points Drive," she explained, turning to face the tean again. "She was last seen playing on a playground near her home, alone. Five days later, her dead body was found in a dumpster on the other end of the city. She had been beaten, raped, and strangled to death."

After a short pause, Emily continued. This time, a photograph of a young, blonde-haired boy appeared on the screen. "On September 5th, in Almee Lane, ten years old Harry Eggers went missing while walking home from school. His body was found in the dumpster four days later, about twenty miles away." The crime scene photograph was next; not much different from a previous one. "Also beaten, raped and strangled to death. No new murders for the next month, but four days ago, on October 10th, also in Aimee Lane, nine years old Jane Daniels went missing from her bedroom at night. Her body still hasn't been found. Local police was about to call us in, and the next day, those three aforementioned, adult victims, were found in that field."

"And they only called us in after three days?" JJ exclaimed.

Emily sighed. "They had hands full dealing with all the media frenzy, and they needed the M.E. to confirm that the three recently discovered victims were all murdered the same way."

"Hardly the work of the same unsub," Spencer concluded, not looking up from his tablet. "Victim type, M.O. and disposal sights are too different."

"So, we have two different unsubs, active in the same city, in close neighborhoods, at the same time. One targeting random adult victims, the other targeting prepubescent Caucasian children of both genders," Matt concluded.

David sighed. "Great."

"As of 2015, Detroit is the city with the second highest murder rate in the USA, 43.4 murders per 100 000 residents, so this isn't that surprising," Spencer commented. "Though, to be fair, most of those killings are gang related. None of these murders seem to fit the bill." He frowned, shifting in his seat. "This is kind of like the case that we had in St. Louis, over a decade ago," he noted. ""The Hollow Man" and "The Mill Creek Killer"".

Emily nodded her head. "We caught those two back in 2007. Now, let's get these guys." She put the remote down on the table, picked up her bag and a tablet, and looked at her team, a determined look on her face. "Wheels up in twenty."

Everyone stood up and headed for the door, deep in their thoughts.

#

A bruised, naked blonde woman was lying down on the basement floor, which was covered with protective plastic. Her eyes were closed, her wrists tied tightly behind her back. She didn't even register the basement door opening. A younger, brown-haired woman walked over to the victim slowly, latex gloves over her hands, apron pulled over her clothes, a bottle of cold water in her hand. She stopped mere inches away from the abused woman, a smirk appearing on her lips, before spiling cold water over the blonde's bruised face and back.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty...," the younger woman mused. The victim flinched, opening her eyes for a moment, but she remained lying on the floor. The younger woman's facial expression turned dark, and she threw the bottle away before kicking her captive in the ribs. "Get up!," she screamed.

The victim stirred and let out a sob, but eventually straightened herself up, sitting up on the floor. By that point, she was also greeted by a tall Caucasian man, dressed the same way as the woman. He was holding a ceramic knife in his hand. He smirked, observing the tortured victim with delight. "Awww... look who's up", he said mockingly. He walked over and ran the blade down the victim's forearm. Red blood slid down the bruised skin. A tortured scream of agony was heard.

"Why are you doing this?" the tortured woman asked, sobbing.

The man smirked. "Why are you a filthy whore?" he asked, every word dripping with rage. His victim started sobbing, her body writhing due to fear and pain. The unsub punched her in the face, making her colapse on the floor again. The female unsub chuckled, then licked her lips, before taking an apron string in her hands. The male unsub just snickered, tightening his fingers around the knife handle. "Cry-baby."

The brunette walked over to the victim and stroked her hair. "It will all be over soon...," she whispered, before walking over behind the victim and tying the apron string around her neck. The victim let out a terrified gasp, her eyes meeting the male unsub's, who smirked.

"It will be," he said, walking over to her. "But not immediately, of course," he said, before leaning over and plunging the blade into her chest.

~OPENING ROLES AND CREDITS~


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Criminal Minds" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

Spencer Reid: _"Never complete with someone who has nothing to lose. Baltasar Gracian."_

The jet was nearing its destination. Emily and Luke were sitting to the left, opposite to David and Tara. Spencer and JJ were sitting to the right, opposite to Matt. They were all busy studying the case materials on their tablets, and discussing their first theories and ideas.

"They set up a police patrol near the field, in case the unsub goes there to relive his crimes, or tries to dump another victim there," Emily informed them. "But I doubt he'll do that. The story is all over the news. I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Even if Sharona was living on the streets, she must have owned some kind of cellphone around the time of her death," JJ concluded. "Probably a burner."

David sighed. "It is probably broken or turned off by now."

"They tried tracking Chuck Winters' cellphone," Luke read, sighing. "No reception. It last bounced in the neighborhood where he lived. He was probably abducted near his home or workplace."

"Nothing on the envelope," Tara read, frowning. "No return address, no fingerprints, DNA... mailing address written with a very common kind of blue pen ink... capital letters, really neat, conclusive handwriting analysis impossible... a postage stamp shows that it was mailed from the same neighborhood that field is located in... but that was probably a forensic countermeasure."

"Chuck Winters' body was found in a field, almost all valuables in his home appeared to be intact, and there were no traces of breaking and entering, but when the detectives from missing persons unit searched his home, they noted that his laptop was missing," Spencer pointed out. "They took photographs. You can see the empty space in the middle of the writing desk in his bedroom. Printer, laptop charger, but no laptop. Odd."

"Maybe Chuck had it with him when he was abducted, and the unsub disposed of it, together with the rest of the personal items," JJ suggested.

"The ground on that field was pretty hard," Tara noted, flipping through forensic reports. "No usable shoe prints or tire tracks were recovered. There was a traffic camera five miles away, by the road, but it didn't record anything important. The unsub probably avoided it, took a different route, or a shortcut."

"They should probably check older footages though," Matt said. "The first victim was murdered a month ago."

"All three bodies found in the field appear to be posed in a demeaning position," JJ noted, examining the crime scene photographs. "Legs spread, arms pulled up over their head..."

"Clear example of a sociopath and a sexual sadist," Emily pointed out, looking up from her tablet. "Victims are his toys, his outlet, and when he's had enough, or his sadistic needs reach a peak, he brutally murders them. But even after murdering them, even in death, he wants to demean them, humiliate them. And he makes sure that the discovery will be as gruesome and shocking as possible, to whoever finds them."

"Not to mention memorable," David added, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Nothing useful on the bodies either," Spencer read. "Judging by the residue found on their skin, all three victims had been scrubbed clean with medical gauze and alcohol."

"This guy sure is careful," David commented. "And methodical."

Spencer frowned, observing one of the autopsy photographs. "This is interesting. The second victim, Shermain Jones, had an old scar just above his navel. It looks like he had been stabbed a few years prior."

"He was a career criminal, who knows from whom he might have gotten it," David replied. "But still, it may be related to his murder. And, by an extension, the other two."

"Police records show that he had plenty of... associates," Matt said, reading the list on his tablet. "Drug dealers, prostitutes, several girlfriends, former cellmates... local detectives still work on tracking them down and bringing them in for questioning. Not much luck so far. It isn't easy. Lots of them don't even have a documented current address. And they definitely aren't cooperative."

"Police reports indicate that Sharona Jenkins was a good friend with a woman named Kendra Barlow, also a prostitute," Tara read. "A couple of times, they were even arrested together. Police picked Kendra up for solicitation yesterday, but she hasn't been cooperative. But judging by little information that she has revealed, neither she nor Sharona had anything to do with Chuck Winters or Shermain Jones."

"Maybe we can get her to open up," JJ said, hopefully.

"Kendra did have a burner phone on her possession," Spencer noted. "Multiple calls to the number 245-456, listed as "Sharona"."

The near by monitor suddenly lightened up. In the next moment, Garcia's face appeared on the screen. " 'Sup? OK, I've looked into Chuck Winters, Shermain Jones and Sharona Jenkins, trying to find any possible connection, and there is absolutely none," Penelope informed them. "Nothing in their phone and email record, nor bank accounts, no proof of contact of any kind. Heck, Sharona Jenkins hasn't had an active phone number, email account or a bank account in the last two years." Penelope smiled, looking up at the monitor. "However, I discovered something interesting about the second victim, Shermain Jones. Back in 2012, during one of his numerous prison stays, he was shanked by a fellow prisoner named Carl Taylor. Carl believed that Shermain "ratted him out" to the guards, about the drugs he had hidden in his cell."

"That explains that scar on Shermain's abdomen," Spencer concluded.

Matt frowned. "No mention of that incident in police reports."

"The bodies were discovered two days ago, he was identified a day later. They haven't had the time to look that deep into his background," Emily explained.

"Carl has a long criminal record for drug possession, aggravated rape and armed robbery," Penelope read. "He was released from prison five months ago. He lives and works five miles away from the field where the bodies were found. I just emailed you his home and work address."

"We should definitely interrogate him," Emily decided. "He could be the "first" unsub."

"Penelope, try tracking the cellphone signal," Spencer asked. "The number is 245-456. It is probably a burner, but maybe you can locate it."

"And look into Shermain Jones' known criminal associates and former cellmates," Emily ordered. "Pull up as much info as you can find."

Penelope nodded her head. "All right. Your word is my command, my nerds. I'll contact you as soon as I discover something," she said before disconnecting.

"Thank you," Emily managed to say before the monitor turned black.

"I am more concerned over the second unsub," David said. "The child killer. He abducted the third victim from her bedroom. Pretty risky. He could be escalating."

"Well, we don't know for sure if he abducted Jane Daniels," JJ pointed out. "Her parents are in the middle of a custody battle. Her father has a criminal record for assault and drug possession."

"He has an alibi though"," Matt read. "He was at work that night. He let the cops search his house and car. They did, and didn't find anything suspicious."

"Tox screens show that the first two victims were chloroformed," Spencer read. "Forensics recovered traces of that same chloroform on Jane Daniels' bed sheets and bedroom closet."

"Maybe this unsub has some sort of medical or pharmaceutical background," Tara suggested.

"Local police compiled a list of registered sex offenders in the neighborhoods where victims had been abducted from, as well as the neighborhoods where the bodies had been dumped in," Emily noted. "The ones convicted of sex crimes against prepubescent children. Twenty people. They all denied any involvement, and most of them had alibies, but few of them still remain possible suspects."

"Once we develop the profile, we should look into their background and prior crimes, see who fits," Luke said.

"We should also compile a list of registered sex offenders who live and/or work near the field where adult victims were left, the ones convicted of sex crimes against adults, and look into those guys as well," Spencer said. "I doubt Carl Taylor is the only viable suspect."

"Good idea," Emily agreed. "Looks like we are about to land. So... Luke and I will go to the field where the adult victims were found, and interrogate Carl Taylor. Spencer, JJ, talk to the M.E., take a look at the bodies, then interrogate Kendra. David, Tara, examine the abduction sights, talk to the parents. Matt, talk to the second M.E., who performed autopsies on child victims, and talk to the first two victims' families. We will meet up at the station a few hours later, discuss our findings and look into the registered sex offenders in the area."

They all nodded their head and continued studying the case files on their tablets, trying to learn as much about the cases before the jet landed. But everyone already had a feeling that neither investigation would be easy.

#

As soon as Emily and the rest of her team entered the precinct and made their way down the hallway, they were greeted by detective John Caal. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss", Emily introduced herself, shaking hands with the detective.

"Detective John Caal," John introduced himself, shaking a hand with Emily, then with the others. "Thank you for arriving on such a short notice. The whole city's on the edge."

"Understandable," Spencer commented, looking around.

"We made you enough space up in the main workroom, just down the hallway," John explained, leading them to their work space.

"Thank you," Emily said. "We'll set everything up, then we'll split up. Four of us will examine the crime scenes, three will go to the morgue, talk to the M.E. and take a look at the bodies. We'll meet up back here in a few hours."

Halfway to the workroom, John was approached by a young blonde police officer. He stopped for a moment, together with the BAU team, as she spoke up.

"Detective Caal, we set up two police patrols near Sharona Jenkins' known trick sites, and one more near local playgrounds," she informed him. "And our techs just finished setting up a tipline."

"Thank you, Aubrey," John replied. nodded her head and walked away. John continued leading the BAU team to the workroom.

"Kendra Barlow is in a holding cell downstairs, by the way," John informed them. "She's still not cooperating."

"Hopefully, we can get her to open up," JJ said.

"Our technical analysis ran a background check on three adult victims and identified a possible suspect, an ex con," Luke said.

John Caal nodded his head as he led the team into the workroom. "We will take him in for questioning."

#

Emily and Luke slowly walked down the path that led to the field, latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms. They looked around, noticing the wide road near by, and a forest a short distance away.

"Pretty rough terrain," Luke noted, looking around as he and Emily stopped in the middle of the field. "The unsub must have driven up to this field using this road. He was smart enough to avoid a traffic camera. Police interrogated people living near this area. Nobody remembers seeing anything suspicious."

Emily frowned. "So, the unsub would need a vehicle big enough to transport the bodies, and the kind that would fit in this area well, and could be driven on this terrain," she concluded. "That means that he most likely owns, or has an access to, an SUV or a minivan." She stopped and took a long look across the field. "The crime scene is pretty clean, neat, just like the bodies. No blood anywhere, not a single personal item belonging to the victims was found, he took the bindings, the ligature and the knife with him. Probably even murdered the victims somewhere else and later dumped the bodies here. Secondary crime scene. Still pretty clean and neat though. "

"Yeah, the ground here is pretty rough," Luke noticed, looking around. "No wonder the forensics haven't found any usable shoe prints or tire tracks." He frowned and took a look across the field, before opening the file on his tablet and taking another look at the crime scene photographs and forensic reports. "But still, if the victims were dragged to here, the drag marks would likely be made on the grass and on the dust covering this ground. And yet, the forensics haven't found any drag marks, and all the bodies appear pretty clean, head to toe, except for some dirt on their back."

"That would mean that the unsub must have carried the bodies to this location," Emily concluded. "Two of his victims being grown men. He is either pretty strong, well built, or he has an accomplice. We may be looking for two unsubs."

Luke nodded his head. "It is possible." He frowned, turning to face Emily. "Something doesn't seem to fit. He avoided the traffic camera, and he used a car that fits in the area, which all points to him being a local. But why leave the victims here? The plans to turn this field into a jogging path were all over the news. He could have easily chosen a more secluded location. There is a forest near by, a lake a mile away..."

"He probably wants attention, he wants the bodies to be found, despite being otherwise careful and organized," Emily theorized. "That would also explain why he, or they, posed the bodies this way, and why the third victim's fist was cut off and mailed to the local news agency."

Luke sighed. "Well, he, or they, murdered the third victim about nine days ago from today. I don't enjoy saying this, but the fourth body will probably turn up soon."

"Yeah..." Emily agreed, then frowned, turning to face Luke. "But don't forget, the need for attention doesn't happen overnight. Especially when it comes to actually committing the murders. First murders are often pretty difficult and stressful for the unsub. Such... posing, taunting, is usually a sign of a progression, or even escalation."

"Well, Garcia checked," Luke remembered. "No hits in ViCAP."

They both took one more look around, and their gaze soon stopped at the sky, focused on several crows that had been flying above the forest, quite some distance away, but still visible.

"Crows are scavangers, right?" Emily wondered.

"Right..." Luke confirmed.

Emily opened the case file and checked police and forensic reports. "Local police and forensic techs searched the near by woods in a two mile radius, didn't find anything suspicious. Definitely no other bodies."

"They should probably broaden the search," Luke suggested, observing the woods. "There could be more bodies in there."

#

In the morgue, Spencer and JJ were standing in front of the last autopsy table in the line, observing Sharona Jenkins' body. The M.E. walked over to them, autopsy reports in her hands.

"All three victims died due to a combination of blood loss and asphyxiation," she said. "They were all viciously beaten prior to the death too. But none of the major arteries were injured. No serious skull injury nor broken ribs. Still, I'd suggest looking for someone with nasty bruises on his knuckles. I wouldn't be surprised if he even broke a few bones. Maybe you should ask around local hospitals. Sadly, the bruises are too severe and "scattered" for me to determine is the killer left-handed or right-handed, let alone his approximate height. And none of the bruises are clear enough for a distinctive shape of fist and knuckles to be determined. Plus, plenty of bruises are overlapping. Anyway, the killer scrubbed the bodies clean with sterile gauze and medical alcohol, so no evidence remained on them. Still, rape kit recovered traces of Vaseline, commonly used as a lubricant, and spermicide, commonly applied to condoms. We also found some white polyester fibers on ligature marks around their neck, and bind marks on their wrists. Embedded deep into the skin. He didn't manage to clean them all."

"So, he knew where to hit the victims to cause pain, but without causing a potentially fatal injury," Spencer noted. "He also scrubbed the bodies clean with a medical gauze and a medical alcohol. That indicates a medical background."

"He also used Vaseline as a lubricant while raping them," JJ pointed out. "And he used a condom during the rape too. That indicates a prior criminal record."

"The victims were stabbed multiple times, over the face and chest, but they were also strangled, from behind," M.E. explained. "Like I said, the cause of death, in all three cases, is a combination of blood loss and asphyxiation."

"Also, some bruises are clearly smaller and less severe than the others," Spencer noted, observing the corpses closely. "Some also appear to be overlapping. That means we could be looking for two unsubs."

"The best I could determine is that the eldest pre mortem bruises were approximately three days old," the M.E. said. "That applies to all three victims."

"So that's how long they keep the victims captive before murdering them," Spencer concluded. "Three days. That time frame must mean something to the unsub. And to ensure that all three victim would stay alive for three days, despite the brutal torture, he would have to provide them with food, water, maybe even vitamins and antibiotics."

"Sadly, in the digestive system, it all gets... degrated after thirty six hours, even in a dead body," the M.E. informed them. "I did found some fresh... crumbs in the victim's mouths. Though that didn't reveal much. It was things like beef, letuce, cheese, tomato, white bread... that could mean a number of different foods and cuisines. And all tox screens came back clean, except for small traces of heroine in Shermain Jones' system."

"The unsub burned the first victim's hands", JJ noted, walking over to Chuck Winters' body. "He also mutilated his face and genitals with a knife. All prior to killing him. He didn't do that to the next two victims. Maybe he tried to conceal the first victim's identity."

"But why only do that to him, and not the next two?" Spencer wondered. "And why mutilate his genitals as well? And he didn't even try removing the tattoo on his right shoulder. No damage there."

"That was his first murder," JJ pointed out. "He might have been experimenting with torture."

"But such level of torture could also indicate that the first murder was personal," Spencer pointed out. "Maybe the unsub knew the victim. Or maybe the victim reminded the unsub of someone from his past, somebody that he hates. One of the unsubs, anyway."

JJ pulled out her tablet, and took another look at the autopsy report. "According to this autopsy reports, the unsub used a ceramic knife to stab all three victims," she read.

"Yes," the M.E. confirmed, nodding her head. "Marks left on the victim's bones, and the residue recovered inside their wounds, are both consistent with the ceramic knife. Sharona Jenkins' hand was cut off with something else, likely a cleaver. Probably the only injury that had been inflicted post mortem."

"Marks on their wrists show that all three victims were bind as well," Spencer pointed out.

"That's right," the M.E. agreed. "Judging by the diameter of the bruises on their wrists, and the forensic analysis of the flesh samples I have colected, all three victims were most likely bind with apron strings. The same items were used to strangle them. The bodies were cleaned up pretty well, but some fibers were embedded deep into the skin, and bruises are clearly visible."

"Yes, that is mentioned in the forensic reports..." JJ said, before looking up from her tablet. "The use of a ceramic knife, a cleaver, and apron ties, could mean that the unsub works as a cook or a chef."

Spencer frowned. "A cook or a chef with a medical expertise and a prior criminal record?"

"He might have fallen from grace," JJ suggested. "That could have been his trigger." She sighed before looking down at Chuck Winters' body again. "But these behavioral evidence also seem to confirm our theory about two unsubs."

Spencer frowned. "All three victims were bind. That is obvious. But there is no evidence that any of the victims were gagged. No residue inside their mouth, no injury to their tongue..."

"They probably like to hear them cry, scream," JJ concluded. "They may be making the victims beg for their life."

"I also recovered some tearing on the victims' throats and larynx," the M.E. added, looking at JJ and then back at Spencer. "Some of it was definitely caused by strangulation, but there are older tearings too. They must have been screaming from the top of their lungs."

"I'd bet they did," JJ commented, feeling herself shiver.

"That means that the unsubs likely live on a secluded location, or they have an access to an isolated location where they can hold their victims captive and torture them," Spencer profiled, before turning to face the M.E. again. "I noticed something odd. Although lividity is consistent with Chuck Winters being murdered a month ago, Shermain Jones being murdered two weeks later and Sharona Jenkins being murdered a week before her body was found, all three bodies barely display any signs of decomposition," he pointed out, a questioning look on his face.

"Yes," the M.E. confirmed, nodding her head. "But the decomposition of their inner organs is consistent with the lividity. I didn't put it in the report because I still need to run some tests, but that is usually consistent with bodies being kept in a freezer until recently."

"So, he only dumped the bodies in a field a few days ago," JJ concluded. "If he was a local, he must have known that that field was about to be turned into a jogging path. Why dump the bodies on a location where they were likely to get discovered?"

"Maybe he-they-wanted that," Spencer said. "They got bored, they wanted attention, to shock the public. That is also why they mailed Sharona Jenkins' hand to the news agency." He sighed, looking down at Sharona's body. "Now that they have gotten a taste of that, they will probably need another rush soon."

#

In a different neighborhood, Emily and Luke talked to Chuck Winters' neighbor, Jack Teeger. He was standing in his yard, dressed in white T-shirt and black pants.

"I was shocked when Chuck went missing," Jack exclaimed. "Even more so after I learned that somebody killed him."

"Do you know if he had any enemies?" Emily asked.

"Like I said to the detectives who interrogated me yesterday, no, I don't think so," Jack answered. "I mean, I didn't know him really well, but he seemed like a normal, ordinary guy. He would even help around to some neighbors. Help them organize garage sales, babysit their children when he had the time... But he didn't seem really close to everyone. Not that I noticed. He was just polite, liked helping people."

"What was the last time you had a closer interaction with him?" Emiky asked.

"Well, we weren't really close... about three months ago. His mother died. I attended the funeral and the wake, said my condolances. That's all."

"Was he seeing anyone around the time of his disappearance?" Luke asked.

Jack shook his head. "Not that I noticed."

"Have you noticed anything suspicious? Somebody lurking around the neighborhood, around Chuck's house?" Emily inquired.

Jack frowned, running his hand through his hair. "No, I don't think so. But I noticed Chuck would go out late over about a month or two before he... you know... went missing. In his car. He hadn't been doing that before."

"Where was he going?" Luke asked.

Jack shrugged. "I don't know."

#

Emily and Luke walked around Chuck Winters' house, now with latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms. They carefully examined every corner, every personal item in the house, looking for any possible clue. After taking a closer look at some of the windows, Luke stopped and looked around, a conclusion slowly forming in his mind.

"Chuck Winters was a single guy, living in a relatively safe neighborhood," Luke noted. "Lower middle class. Yet, I see six penal lock on both front and back door. Home alarm. Dead bolts on the windows. Light sensor in the front yard as well as the back yard."

"Maybe he was just careful," Emily said.

"Or he was afraid of someone," Luke suggested.

"Almost all the walls in the house are painted white," Emily noted, looking around. "Not many family photographs or personal items on display. Seems like a very private, not really social person." She took some time to study the bookcase in the living room. "Spent most of his times reading cheap mystery novels and books about computer science and electronics." She sighed. "Still, there could be something in Chuck's home that could point us to the unsub."

"Maybe," Luke commented. "We can't solve all cases." He sighed. "No matter how hard we try, I guess."

"We will get Peter Lewis," she said, trying to sound as convincing and supporting as possible. "Eventually."

"And how many people will he kill before that happens?" Luke couldn't help but comment. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I... I've lost some good people while I was in the military. Fellow soldiers. But... being in a team... after having worked with the guy for months... it is different."

Emily nodded her head. "This is the first time somebody died under my command," she admitted. "I keep thinking, if I had been more careful... or, if I had returned earlier, helped others search for him right away..." She sighed, looking away. "I am worried about Spencer. First he gets framed, spends months in federal prison, his mother is abducted and almost killed... and then, he loses a fellow team member."

"You talked to him, right?"

Emily gulped, feeling herself shiver. "Of course. I broke the news. We talked before the funeral, after the funeral, after the wake... but some events simply leave... scars. No matter how much support you get from others." "It frikkein sucks."

"Still, he knows that we are always there for him," Luke reminded her. "That's gotta mean something." He groaned. "Still... how can somebody elude justice for so long?"

Emily turned to face him, a determined look on her face. "Long, yes. But it won't be forever. Peter murdered Stepen Walker to hurt us, and he did. But, in the end, he gave us amplitude of reasons to work even harder to catch him. They never count on that."

Luke nodded his head, looking around, trying to focus on slovima the case. "I know that there are no signs of breaking and entering, and no valuables appear to be missing, except for the laptop... But this house appears pretty messy," he noticed. "Yet, the yard is pretty well preserved. It was, according to the photographs taken a month ago. And all the books in the bookcase seem to be positioned in alphabetical order. Something doesn't fit."

"You think that the unsub went to Chuck's house?" Emily asked.

"None of Chuck's personal items have been recovered, including the house key," Luke pointed out.

"Why would he do that?" Emily asked. "And how come the alarm didn't go off?"

"Not sure about the motive", Luke admitted. " But maybe the unsub, or the unsubs, tortured the alarm code out of Chuck. That could explain the severity of the torture inflicted upon him. Or they could be experienced burglars. They disabled the home alarm, but managed to spare themselves some effort with a stolen key."

"These floor boards appear a bit loose," Emily noted, stepping on the floor carefully.

Almost as soon as Emily said that, she and Luke bent over, pulled at the floor boards, and easily removed them, revealing a metal box that had been hidden underneath. Emily made sure to take a photograph before removing the box from the hiding place and opening it. It was filled with hard drives and various other pieces of electronics.

"Multiple hard drives, electrical cabels..." Emily noted. "And money," she exclaimed, pulling out a set of bills hidden underneath. There was about thousand dollars there, mostly in twenty and fifty dollar bills.

Luke frowned. "You think Chuck had been stealing from his workplace?"

"If he had been working with someone, or he discovered something he shouldn't have... that could be a motive behind his death," Emily reasoned.

"What about the other victims?" Luke wondered.

"A forensic countermeasure, a way to set the police off the track," Emily suggested. "Or maybe they were somehow linked to that classified information. Or the first murder unlocked the unsub's sadistic tendencies and he turned into a serial killer. Maybe the unsub went to Chuck's house looking for this, but never found it." She straightened herself up, pulling her phone out of her pocket. "We better get this to forensics," she decided. "And send them to process this house."

#

Having left the morgue, Spencer and JJ were walking down the hallway together, heading towards the jail.

"Wanna bet Kendra will talk if we promise that she won't be going to prison?," Spencer commented.

JJ frowned, choosing her words carefully. "Spencer, are you OK?"

Spencer stopped and looked at her like she wasn't making any sense. "I'm back to work," he said. "I'm doing fine."

"That's not what I meant", JJ elaborated.

Spencer sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. "This is a dangerous job. Our lives are always on the line, and lots of people would like to hurt us, one way or the other. That's just the way it is. There is no point to dwell on it," he concluded before continuing his way down the hallway.

JJ stared at him for some time, a solemn look on her face, before following him.

#

Kendra was lying face up on the bunk in her jail cell, staring up at the ceiling. Once she heard the footsteps approaching, she briefly glanced at the hallway, noticing Spencer and JJ approaching her. Noticing their badges and service weapons, she scoffed and looked away.

"Hi, Kendra," JJ said softly. Kendra briefly glared at her and Spencer, then looked away. JJ continued. "We are special agents Jennifer Jeraeu and Spencer Reid, from Behavioral Analysis Unit. We are investigating the murder of your friend, Sharona Jenkins. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

Kendra remained silent, staring at the near by wall.

"If you talk to us, tell us what you know, that could help us solve your friend's murder," Spencer said.

"And, if you cooperate, we could talk to DA, get him to drop the solicitation charge," JJ added.

Kendra scoffed and sat up on the bed, finally looking at them. "Save your breath. Police has screwed me over more times than I can count. I know that you don't care about a dead hooker. Why should I trust you? Why should I help you?"

"Kendra, we assure you that we care about all the victims equally, and that we will keep our promise," Spencer said gently, looking her in the eyes. "That is why we are in the job. We analyze the criminal's behavior, we catch serial killers, serial rapists... we don't get to pick and choose. We want to get this guy, as much as you do."

"We also studied the autopsy reports," JJ mentioned. "Sharona's tox screen was clean. She was doing her best to stay clean. She was a good person, who wanted to escape that life, someday. But somebody robbed her off that chance. Help us find that person, and we will help you."

Kendra remained silent for some time, weighing options in her head. "What do you want to know?" she finally asked.

"When was the last time you saw Sharona?" JJ asked.

Kendra sighed, looking away. "About ten days ago. We were... doing tricks. I left at around ten pm. Sharona wanted to stay, tried to find one more customer, or two. I agreed." She gulped, feeling herself shuddered. "If I hadn't left..." she whispered, guilt evident in her voice.

"You couldn't have known what would happen to her," JJ said, assuredly. "Don't blame yourself."

Kendra sighed, wiping tears that sparkled in her eyes. "After that night, I couldn't find her anywhere. I knew something bad must have taken place. But I was too afraid to contact the police. I knew they'd probably pick me up for tricking, or even try to pin it on me, had something happened to Sharona... or they simply wouldn't take me seriously. Sure thing, yesterday, they arrested me, told me that Sharona was dead... when I wouldn't talk to them, they put me in here."

"Did you notice anything strange that night, at or near your corner?" Spencer asked. "A car parked near by, that you had not seen before? A suspicious person lurking around?"

Kendra shook her head. "No. I'm sorry."

"Did Sharona have any enemies?" JJ asked.

Kendra groaned. "You name it. Other hookers, junkies moving around our trick sites... but nobody aggressive or angry enough to kill her."

"Did she mention any clients that were especially... aggressive? Perverse?" Spencer asked.

Kendra frowned. "There was that one guy. "Malcolm", she told me. He picked her up a few times. Last time being a week before she disappeared. She told me that he liked to tie her up, have rough sex, threaten her with a knife... all part of the "play". I tried to convince her to start going to him, but she said that she could handle herself, that he paid well, and that he didn't seem capable of actually hurting someone. Maybe she was wrong."

"Do you know any other details about him?" Spencer asked.

Kendra bit her lower lip. "Sharona didn't reveal anything else. And I never got a good look at him. But I know that he drives a black Volvo. Didn't get the licence plates though."

JJ nodded her head. "Thank you. We'll look into that. We'll ket you know about any new developments. And we'll talk to the DA."

"Thank you," Kendra whispered as Spencer and JJ walked away, leaving her alone in her cell.

#

The male unsub leaned back in his couch, watching the news on TV. He scoffed as he listened to the anchor report about the recent developments. "FBI arrived to Detroit this morning, in order to assist local detectives in a pursuit of two different serial killers currently active in the area..."

The unsub spotted his wife pacing around, a worried look on her face. "Hey," he spoke up. "Come over."

She approached him, without saying a word. Once she was close enough, he leaned over and embraced her, pulling her on to his lap. She gasped, then chuckled, leaning her body into his. "Relax," he whispered, placing a kiss on her lips. "They've got nothing on us," he said. "No evidence, no witnesses, nothing."

His wife pulled away, her cheeks blushed, and looked him in the eyes. "When do you think they'll find the latest one?" she whispered, lust sparkling in her eyes.

The male unsub grinned, resting his head against the woman's chest. "Hopefully, soon enough."

"And that other guy? The kiddie diddler?"

"Don't worry about that," her man assured her, before placing another kiss on her lips. "Remember our plan."

His wife moaned, pressing her forehead against his. "Now that FBI is in town, we should probably lie low for a while."

Her husband smirked, pulling her closer. "Or simply change neighborhood."

#

David and Tara stood in front of the playground where Heather Jensen was last seen alive, looking around. They had latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms, each with a tablet in hand.

"Forensics didn't find any signs of a struggle here," Tara noted, looking around. "No defense wounds found on the body either. And none of the neighbors remember seeing or hearing anything suspicious. The unsub would need a vehicle that would fit into this neighborhood, the kind that wouldn't raise an alarm. So, he probably drives a Volvo or a Sedan, white or black in color."

"The unsub is probably at least somewhat socially skilled, he appears non-threatening, fits in. He is able to lure children into his vehicle, or at least get a drop on them and chloroform them, without them putting up a fight," David concluded. "Meaning that he is probably between the ages of twenty and forty. Since all of his victims have been Caucasian so far, he is probably Caucasian also." He sighed, replaying the scene in his mind. "The unsub probably stalks the children and their parents for some time. Gets to know their habits. Once he is prepared, and he finds children alone, he strikes. He lures them into his car, or to his car. Maybe he tells them that he knows their parents, or that he needs some sort of help. Once they approach him, let their guard down, he chloroforms them, binds them, gags them, takes them to his place... and we both know what happens next."

"He might have experienced some sort of a stressor recently," Tara said. "A death of a family member or a friend, a loss of a job, a broken relationship... something that pushed him over the edge."

David sighed. "And now, we have two monsters on the loose."

#

Carl Taylor, a buff African American man in his thirties, shifted in his seat in the interrogation room, before glaring at Luke, who was sitting at the table, opposite to him, and Emily, who was standing near by. "I didn't kill that bitch!" Carl exclaimed.

Luke frowned. "And you are referring to...?"

"Shermain," Carl spat out, before pushing the crime scene photographs away. "And those other two victims-I had nothing to do with that either."

"You shanked Shermain Jones," Emily pointed out.

"Five years ago," Carl said. "He deserved it for snitching on me. But that was it. I've gotten my revenge. I marked him. That was enough."

"Where were you on this date, about a month ago?" Emily asked.

"I don't really remember," Carl said. "But probably at work, and at home."

"I assume that you were at home at night?" Luke suggested.

Carl smirked, taking a look at the crime scene photographs before looking up at Luke. "Probably."

"Alone?" Emily asked.

Carl grinned. "Most likely."

"What about two weeks later?" Emily asked. "And what about nine days ago?"

"Probably the same," Carl answered, before looking at the crime scene photographs again, smirking.

"But you don't remember clearly?" Luke asked.

Carl shook his head. "No."

"What about those bruises on your knuckles?" Emily asked.

Carl shrugged. "Hurt myself at work."

"Would you mind us searching your house and a car?" Emily asked.

"Do you have a warrant?" Carl inquired.

"Not yet," Emily admitted.

"Then obtain it, or leave me alone," Carl said, leaning back into his seat. "And if I'm not under arrest, I'd like to leave now."

#

Emily and Luke sighed as they exited the interrogation room, closing the door behind. They started walking down the hallway, replaying Carl's words in their mind.

"He definitely seemed arrogant", Luke pointed out. "And he seemed to enjoy looking at the crime scene photographs."

"The guy's got some serious issues", Emily agreed. She frowned. "But still... I'm not so sure."

Luke nodded his head. "Me either. For once, he definitely had beef with Shermain. But the murder of Shermain Jones wasn't anymore personal, or brutal, than the first or the third murder. One can argue that the first murder was the most brutal, since the victim's hands were burned, and his face and genitals mutilated. I know that Carl already shanked Shermain, but still."

"Yes. And though Carl seemed relatively confident and intelligent, his pants and shoes were dirty and disheveled, and his shoe laces were tied in a pretty sloppy way, almost loose. He doesn't seem to display organization and intelligence that would match to the organized nature of the murders and the cleaniness of the crime scene." She sighed. "We should probably still have the police follow him for some time, and obtain a search warrant for his house and car, just in case. I'll have Penelope look into his background too, see who could his accomplice possibly be. But still, I doubt he's our unsub. We should look into other suspects and clues."

#

In a different morgue, in the other part of the station, Matt Simmons felt nauseaus as he observed the dead bodies of two children, laying on two autopsy tables. The M.E. was standing near by, autopsy reports in his hands.

"All two victims were killed by ligature strangulation", M.E. said. "There are also bruises on their wrists and tearing inside their mouth, consistent with them being bind and gagged. They were all beaten and raped, repeatedly, before being murdered. Judging by the bruises and tearing, he didn't hold them captive for more than twenty four hours. Nothing under their fingernails. No much forensic evidence on the bodies either. They were left in a dumpster, covered with trash... contamination. Rape kit recovered traces of K-Y jelly, commonly used as a lubricant, and traces of spermicide, commonly applied to condoms."

"He used a lube and condom while raping the victims, left the bodies in a dumpster", Matt reasoned. "A high level of forensic sophistication. He probably has a prior criminal record."

"Judging by the analysis of the flesh samples taken from their wrists, and fibers recovered inside their mouth, both victims were bind with electric cables and gagged with microfiber cloths", M.E. said. "Despite the contamination, enough residue remained for a full analysis."

"So, he most likely works as an IT technician, or an electrician", Matt concluded.

M.E. sighed, before taking a sad look at the bodies. "I sure hope you catch this guy soon. He's a monster."

Matt nodded his head. "We'll do our best", he promised.

#

In the third different suburban neighborhood that day (but inside a house, for a change), David and Tara were sitting on the living room sofa, opposite to Jane Daniels' mother, Jennifer Daniels, who was sitting on the couch. eyes were reddish and watery, her skin pale.

"As every next day goes by... I... I keep losing hope," she whispered. "I... I keep thinking about... about what he's doing to her."

"We'll do our best to find your daughter," Tara said softly. "Do you remember anything suspicious shortly prior to her disappearance? Strange people moving around site neighborhood, cars parked near your house...?"

After a short thinking, Jennifer shook her head, shivering. "No, nothing like that." She gulped, looking down at the floor.

"Do you have any enemies? Do you remember anyone showing a special interest in you or your daughter in the last few weeks?"

"No," Jennifer answered. She groaned. "I... I heard about those other children. Every time the phone rings..."

"We will do our best to find your daughter," David said assuredly. "Nothing is lost yet."

Jennifer sighed, tears rolling down her face. "I was asleep in the next room. How could I have let that happen?" she cried.

#

David and Tara looked around Jane Daniels' room, carefully studying every detail, paying special attention to personal items. Tara observed the bed, while David concentrated on a damaged bedroom window.

"So, the unsub breaks in through the bedroom window, sneaks in, chloroforms the victim, carries her outside..." David reasoned.

"Even though he had chloroform, that was still prretty risky," Tara noted. "The mother was sleeping just ten feet away." She walked over to the window and examined it closely. "Plus, he obviously isn't an experienced burglar. This must have been pretty messy. And loud."

"But he took his chances," David concluded. "He wanted another victim. And he didn't hesitate breaking into her room to get her." He groaned. "He is probably escalating."

Tara frowned, walking over to the bedroom closet. "Forensics also found smeared traces of chloroform on the bedroom closet..." she noted, opening the closet door and examining the content. "All this toys are pretty well organized... but a few appear to be missing. Lots of empty space on this shelf, a ripped label..." She examined it further, bending over. "I don't see her school backpack anywhere either."

"So, he took some of her toys, and a backpack," David concluded. "The mother was probably too distraught to notice."

"Probably trophies," Tara said.

"Or his means of controlling her," David suggested.

"He didn't do that with other victims", Tara noted.

"Maybe he realized that the police was closing in, so he decided to keep his next victim alive longer," David suggested. "Satisfy his urges without committing another murder so soon."

"So, Jane may still have some time left," Tara said, hopefully.

David frowned. "Maybe. But who knows what this sick bastard is doing to her. And he won't be able to resist his murderous urges for long. I saw the crime scene photographs, read the autopsy reports. Those children were viciously beaten, raped multiple times, strangled so hard that the skin on their neck broke, then left in a dumpster and covered with trash. He didn't just kill them to eliminate witnesses. He enjoyed the act of murder as much as beating and raping them. He is a sexual sadist and a pedophile. The murder is a final act that satisfies his sick urges."

#

An hour later, everyone was back in the workroom, sitting around the desk, going over the clues, and their deductions. They had plenty of profile details regarding both unsubs, but little of actual clues.

"No luck with tracking Sharona Jenkin's cellphone," David exclaimed, having just gotten off the phone with Garcia. "The signal last pinned nine days ago, near that trick site Kendra mentioned. The unsubs must have picked her up, tasered her, and broke her cellphone right away, as a forensic countermeasure."

Emily sighed. "Police and forensics searched that area. Nothing. If there was any useful evidence there, it is long gone by now. And, of course, everyone living and "working" near by denies seeing anything suspicious, and there are no security cameras anywhere."

"Garcia is checking her phone records now," JJ mentioned. "That could help us track down some of her clients."

Spencer took another sip of his coffee. "According to Garcia's research, none of the parents had an IT technician or an electrian come to their home a few weeks or even months prior to the abduction. And neither did their close neighbors."

Emily rubbed her forehead. "Nothing suspicious on hard drives found in Chuck Winters' possession. And if he was selling those items to someone, there are no records of that in his phone or email records. Forensics are still processing those items and the house though."

David sighed, picked up the first file on the desk near by, and opened it. "So... there are five registered sex offenders that could be responsible for child murders. Convicted of sex crimes against prepubescent children, no alibies, live relatively close to the neighborhoods from where the victims were abducted."

"Robert Grey and Alan Daniels both live in an apartment building, and neither owns a car," Emily read. "I think we can rule them out."

JJ read. "Henry Keller. Convicted of voyerism in 2004 and for molesting two underage boys in 2008. Owns a Sedan, works as a cashier at a pharmacy. But his IQ is 90. I doubt he is intelligent or organized enough to commit such complex and brutal abductions and murders."

Spencer shifted in his seat. "Then we have Kyle Willson. Convicted of molesting his cousin in 2009. Owns a white Sedan. But before committing the sex crime, he was convicted multiple times of voyerism and, later, burglary. He currently works as a locksmith. I doubt he'd do such a sloppy job breaking into Jane Daniels' bedroom."

"I'm reading reports written by his probation officer", Matt said. "In 2015, he was diagnosed with angina pectoris. Six months ago, Kyle was involved in a serious car accident. Broke his left leg and right arm, suffered a concussion. He has mostly recovered by now, but still, I doubt he is currently strong and fast enough to carry out abductions and murders like these."

"Harry Johnson has a criminal record for molesting both boys and girls, ages five to ten," Tara read. "He used to work as an orderly, he now works as an IT technician and owns a white Volvo. However, he is African American, and all of his prior victims were also African American. Also, he used a knife to threaten his victims. So, he'd probably murder his victims by stabbing them to death or cutting their throats, not by strangling them."

They all sighed and leaned back in their seats, putting the files down. Out of leads again.

Spencer stared at the near by board, slowly studying crime scene photographs and forensics reports plastered on it. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He straightened himself up and took a closer look at some of the photographs, then turned to face his team mates. "Matt, you said that this unsub probably works as an IT technician or a computer repair guy, right?" Spencer asked.

"Yes, judging by the wires and cloths that he used to bind and gag the victims," Matt confirmed. "But we know that none of the parents, nor their closest neighbors, used those services recently."

"I just noticed something," Spencee began his explanation. "Both abduction sights, though very different when compared to each other, are both located close to a big Internet cafe. And IT companies often offer services in different neighborhoods or even cities." He took a step closer to the desk, his tone of voice almost dramatic. "So, maybe the unsub is an IT technician from a different neighborhoods, or even a different city, who sometimes does his job in Detroit, so he murders here as a forensic countermeasure."

Luke immediately took his phone and called Garcia. She answered almost immediately. "Speak to be recognized by your empress, mortal."

"Garcia, look into the internet cafe in between two abduction sights," Luke asked her. "Its finances. Have they done business with any IT company from a different neighborhood or even a different city?"

For a few seconds, they heard nothing but the sound of fingertips hitting against the keyboard. Then, a response. "Yes, with one company."

"Is one of their employees, presumably the one assigned to those tasks, a registered sex offender?" Spencer asked. "Does he own or have an access to a Volvo or Sedan?"

Once again, typing. And, soon enough, the answer. "Yes. There is one creep. Jake Adams. He was convicted of possesion of child pornography in 2007, and of molesting a five year old girl in 2011. He was released a year ago. He owns a white Volvo."

"Look into the probation records, and his work and family history," Spencer suggested. "Did he suffer any kind of stressor recently? A loss of a family member, a broken relationship, an argument...?"

"Yes. His parents died from a heart attack, a day apart from each other, in July this year. He took two weeks off work. The first child murder happened a week after he returned to work."

"Any medical background?" Emily asked.

"Well, his mother was a nurse, and during his incarceration, he volunteered at a prison hospital."

"Does he live in an isolated house, or has an access to an isolated location?" Emily asked.

"No... he lives in a suburban neighborhood... yikes. He inherited the parents' house after their death, but the bank soon reposessed it because he couldn't keep up with the morgage... but he also inherited the summer house in woods near the lake. He still owns it."

"He could very well be our guy," Spencer concluded.

"Garcia, send us his home and work address," Emily ordered.

She received a response in a few seconds. "Done!"

#

Emily and Luke walked towards front door, followed by Spencer and JJ. Emily rang the doorbell.

"Jake Adams, FBI. We'd like to ask you some questions."

No answer. Emily rang the doorbell again.

"Jake Adams, open the door."

In the next moment, they heard a well known commotion inside the house. It took Luke about as long to draw his weapon, followed by the others, then kick the door in.

They got to the living room just in time to see Jake escape through the window. They all rushed through the near by back door, chasing him.

Jake was running fast enough, looking behind his shoulder every now and then. At first, it looked like he might escape. Until he ran into a dead end alley on the other side of the neighborhood. He stopped in his tracks and looked around, his face sweaty, his eyes widened and filled with fear.

"Get down on the ground!" Emily commanded. "Keep your hands where I can see them!"

"Don't shoot!" Jake cried as Luke walked over to him, pulled his arms behind his back, and handcuffed him.

Jake Adams was easy. Capturing him, at least. But every member of the BAU couldn't help but wonder: was he too easy?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Criminal Minds" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Sorry about the long delay, but I wanted this chapter to be just right, I hope you'll like it. Not much about Spencer's feelings and struggles in this chapter, but that will be explored further in the next chapter, I**

Jake Adams shifted in the chair, looking at Matt, who was standing near by, then at Luke, who was sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to him. Luke made an eye contact with Jake before putting a crime scene photograph on the table, in front of him. And another. And another. Jake briefly glanced at them, then looked away, gulping as he did.

"Put those away, OK?" Jake muttered. "I didn't kill those children!" He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I want my lawyer," he demanded.

"Fair enough," Luke said. "We are working on obtaining a search warrant for your house and car right now. Hopefully your lawyer gets here before we find something... incriminating."

"Where were you three nights ago?" Matt asked.

"At home, watching TV. I went to sleep at around ten pm."

"Were you alone?"

"Yes."

"If you didn't kill anyone, why did you try to run away?" Luke asked.

Jake sighed. "I panicked. Simple as that. I'm a registered sex offender, FBI showed up at my door..."

Matt scoffed. "Come on, Jake. Don't put your energy into lying, because it obviously isn't working for you."

Jake sighed, running his hands through his hair. "OK. I had certain... materials on my laptop," he admitted.

"You mean, child porn?" Luke asked.

"It just popped up, I swear!" Jake cried.

Matt smirked. "But you haven't deleted it?"

Jake groaned. "Once again, I didn't kill those children, and I didn't abduct anyone," he maintained. "And I'm done talking."

#

Soon afterwards, Luke and Matt left the interrogation room, closing the door behind. They approached Emily, who had been standing outside, watching them through the one-way mirror and listening to the interrogation through the microphone.

"So, what do you think?" Matt asked, talking to both Luke and Emily.

Luke sighed. "I'm not sure. He really seemed uncomfortable when presented with the crime scene photographs. The real unsub probably wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off them."

"True," Matt agreed. "But maybe he heard about that and he is trying to fool us."

Luke frowned. "Maybe. But that, combined with the organized nature of the murders, would require a high intelligence, and a high level of organization and manipulation. From what I've seen, Jake's wrist watch is five minutes late, his zipper is undone, his house is extremely messy, and as soon as we knocked on his door, he tried to run away. A sheer opposite."

"And he confessed to the possession of child pornography quite easily. We better hold him, and we still have to search his house and car, but I doubt he is our unsub," Emily agreed with Luke.

At that point, detective John Caal approached them, a concerned look on his face. "There's been another murder," he informed them.

"Jane Daniels?" Emily asked, concerned.

Detective Caal shook his head. "No. An unidentified adult female victim. She was found in a truckstop bathroom, in a different neighborhood."

#

Emily, Spencer and Matt walked into the truckstop bathroom, followed by detective Caal, looking around as they did. They all had latex gloves over their hands, and booties over their shoe bottoms. The rest room consisted of four stalls and four sinks. The walls were dirty and covered with graffitis, and almost none of the doors on the stalls had knobs anymore. The victim's body was laying on the floor, in the center of the rest room, covered with a piece of black tarp.

"A trucker named Stephen Rush went to this bathroom today, at around four pm, and found her," detective John Caal explained. "The M.E. estimates she has been murdered early this morning, about ten to twelve hours ago."

"So, the body was just laying here for ten to twelve hours without anyone discovering it?" Spencer wondered, as he and Emily leaned over and lifted the tarp, examining the body.

Detective Caal shrugged. "Maybe. There's been a traffic jam due to a car accident on the main highway early this morning. Truckers started driving by here again a few hours ago."

"Same M.O.," Emily noted, observing the corpse carefully. "Bruises all over her face and torso, stab wounds to her chest and abdomen, ligature marks around her neck, traces of binding... the body is posed the same way too... and they cut her right hand off."

"This, too, is a secondary crime scene," Matt noted, looking around. "I mean, this place is pretty messy, but I don't see any blood or signs of a struggle here."

"There are still faint traces of dark red lipstick and black eyeliner on her face... looks pretty cheap..." Spencer noted, taking a closer look. "She also appears to have needle marks on her left forearm. She could have been a prostitute, and/or a drug addict. That would mean that the unsubs are still targeting high-risk victims... but why?"

"Well, if she has a criminal record, we could identify her via fingerprints and DNA, like the first three," detective Caal said hopefully, before taking a look around the crime scene. "Preliminary search uncovered no IDs, clothing or personal items on the scene. Forensics will process this place, and the near by area, but there must be hundreds of fingerprints, shoe prints and biological evidence here and around. Most of them contaminated and degrated, I'd bet. No security cameras near by either. The closest is twenty miles away, near the highway."

Spencer frowned, straightening himself up. "You know, when you look at the first three victims, they don't appear to have anything in common," he reasoned. "Two men, one woman. Two Caucasian victims, one African American victim. One low-risk victim and two high-risk victims. An IT technician, a drug dealer and a pimp, a prostitute. But this victim, the fourth victim, looks pretty similar to the third victim, Sharona Jenkins. They are both high-risk victims, Caucasian women, in their early to mid thirties, average height and weight, long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale perplexion."

"Maybe they finally found the victim type that they prefer," Emily suggested. "The last two victims may be surrogates for a specific woman from their life. Or from one of the unsubs' life, anyway."

Matt frowned. "But, if that is the case, why murder those two men first? I could understand them going after the women of different hair color, build, or even ethnicity, but why those two men?"

"Maybe the unsubs knew them," Emily suggested. "Or one of the unsubs did. It could have been personal."

"Yeah, but Chuck Winters and Shermain Jones led completely different lives," Matt noted. "They even lived in different neighborhoods."

"The unsubs went a step further this time," Emily noted, glancing at the body again. She leaned over and lifted the tarp again, observing the corpse once more. "Unlike with Sharona Jenkins, they cut her hair off. There are also some faint nail polish stains on her fingernails... they scrubbed most of it off."

"Seems like they wanted to take away her femininity," Spencer concluded. "Power."

"They didn't do that to Sharona Jenkins," Matt noted. "It looks like they're evolving. Or escalating, when taking in the account that _and_ the shorter cooling-off period between the murders."

"And sure, they cleaned up her body with medical alcohol, but it looks like this nail polish was expertly removed," Emily noted. "Judging by the look of it, and the scent, they probably used acetone."

Spencer widened his eyes, a look of realization appearing on his face. "Taking in the account the use of acetone to remove the nail polish, the fact that some bruises on the victims appear to be much smaller and less severe than the others, and the meticulous clean up of all four bodies, it is possible that one of the unsubs is a woman," he concluded.

#

Soon afterwards, Emily, Spencer and Luke walked out of the bathroom, breathing in fresh air sharply. They slowly headed over to theor vehicle, discussing their findings on the way.

"I wonder who will receive the hand this time?" Matt wondered. "Maybe that same news agency? Or some other? Bigger?"

"It could be us," Emily suggested. "The local precinct, I mean."

"Shortly before we got a call about this murder, I managed to complete both geographic profiles," Spencer informed them. "That could help us narrow down the list of suspects, steer us in the right direction."

At that point, detective John Caal approached them, a phone in his hand and a frown on his face. "Our search team just finished an extended search of the woods near the field where the first three adult victims were discovered", he informed them. "Five mile radius this time. They found human remains in a ditch, about three miles away from the field, covered with branches and leaves."

"A man or a woman?" Emily asked.

John sighed. "A young girl. M.E. estimates that she was between eight and ten years old, and that she has been dead for about a month. Looks like her throat had been slit."

"Well, it can't be Jane Daniels," Matt figured. "She was abducted four days ago."

"And there haven't been any other reports about missing children in the area, so that girl must have been abducted from a different area of Detroit, or even a different city," Spencer pointed out.

"The M.O. doesn't seem to match either," Emily added. "So, we are either looking for a copycat, or the second unsub is deevolving."

Spencer frowned. "So, if the latter is correct, the unsub abducted the victim from a different area, murdered her by slitting her throat, and dumped her body in the woods. Near the location where the unrelated killing team dumped the bodies of their three adult victims."

"Then he managed to lie low for a month, before abducting a young girl from her bedroom," Matt reasoned.

"He is escalating," Emily concluded. "There will be more victims, soon. And it is just a matter of time between he crosses paths with the killing team. Once they collide, things will get ugly." She took a deep breath. "It's time to deliver the profiles," she decided.

#

Within half an hour, the whole BAU team was standing in the center of the meeting room, in front of dozens of cops and homicide detectives who were sitting at their desks, listening to them carefully.

"The unsub who targets children is most likely a Caucasian man in his early twenties to early forties," Emily stated. "He is at least somewhat socially skilled, he appears polite and non-threatening, and is probably a local."

"He likely owns or has an access to a Volvo or a Sedan, probably white or black in color," Spencer continued. "Judging by the wires he used to bind and strangle the victims with, and the cloths used to gag them, he likely works as an IT technician."

"Though all of the registered sex offenders in the area have alibies or don't match the profile, the unsub probably has a prior criminal record," David said. "He used a lube and condom during the rapes, and he left the bodies in the dumpster, then covered them with trash. That indicates a high level of forensic sophistication. He might have suffered a stressor recently, something that pushed him over the edge, made him give into his urges, live out his sick fantasies. A death of a family member or a friend, a loss of a job, a broken relationship..."

"He either lives in an isolated house, away from most of the neighbors, or has an access to an isolated location, where he can easily keep his victims captive, torture them, rape them, and murder them without rising any suspicion," Matt stated.

"As for the unsub targeting adult victims, we believe we are looking for two unsubs, a killing team," Emily explained. "Judging by the brutality of the crimes, and the varying age of the victims, both unsubs are probably in their early twenties to early forties. The ethnicity is difficult to determine, but they seem especially focused on Caucasian female victims, so it is likely that at least one of them is Caucasian."

"The first unsub appears to be dominant, controlling," Luke said. "He is certainly a sexual sadist, very likely a narcissist and a sociopath. He murders his victims by stabbing them. Judging by the weapons and binds used, he probavly works as a chef or a cook. The second unsub is a bit more difficult to profile. He beats the victims too, but he strangles them, and he probably doesn't participate in the rape. He has some medical background; he probably worked, or he used to work, as a nurse or an orderly. He could easily be younger than the dominant unsub."

"Behavioral evidence also suggests that the second unsub may even be a woman," Spencer continued. "It is also possible that he or she suffers from hybristophilia, a paraphilia in which a sexual arousal, facilitation, and attainment of orgasm are responsive to and contingent upon being with a partner known to have committed a violent crime, most commonly rape, murder or armed robbery. It is also very likely that he, or she, suffers from asphyxiophilia; achieving sexual gratification through suffocation or strangulation. That term usually applies to people who enjoy erotic or autoerotic asphyxiation; restricting oxygen to their brain for the purposes of sexual arousal, either on their own or with the help of a partner. But there are people who actually get off on strangling or suffocating others. That form of asphyxiophilia is relatively rare and is closely linked to sexual sadism. That appears to be the case here."

"They are both likely locals, familiar with the area, though they weren't necessarily born or even grew up here. And they own, or have an access to, an SUV or a minivan, most likely white or black in color," Tara informed them. "The vehicle is likely registered to the dominant, older, male partner."

"They live on an isolated location, away from the neighbors, possibly together," JJ said. "Or they have an access to an isolated location where they can torture and rape the victims for three days without alarming anyone."

"They left the bodies on an isolated location, but also the one where they knew they'd be found soon," Spencer profiled. "They cut the third victim's hand off and mailed it to the local news agency. They want attention, and they want to shock the public. But they are still pretty careful too. They cut the right hand off the fourth victim as well. Somebody will receive it soon. They like this rush, this power. So, sadly, we can expect another victim within a week, maybe even days. They will not stop until we catch them."

He picked up several maps from the near by desk, and handed them to several uniformed officers. "These are the geographic profiles that I created," he explained. "Though there is still a possibility that a child killer lives in a different neighborhood, or even a different city, if he is a local, he likely lives in the area that I marked. The abduction sights are pretty far apart, but they seem to originate from there. As for the killing team, judging by the neighborhoods from where they abducted their victims, and the location where they left the bodies, I managed to narrow their likely whereabouts to a ten mile radius. That is probably where they live and work, possibly together."

"Also, both child and adult victims were brutally beaten before being murdered," JJ pointed out. "Adult victims were also brutally stabbed to death. So pay special attention to suspects with fresh bruises on their knuckles, and cuts on their hands. And look into recent hospital visits for fitting injuries, just in case. Sprained, or even broken wrists, broken fingers, etc."

"Also, inform the missing persons department," Emily ordered. "If any prostitute, or woman in general, matching Sharona Jenkins' description, is reported missing, they should forward the case to us immediately. Time is of the essence in this case. Thank you," she concluded, nodding her head.

And that was it. Two very detailed psychological profiles. Detectives and uniformed police officers stood up from their desks, and went their separate ways. Soon afterwards, detective John Caal walked over to Emily and Spencer.

"My guys picked up Sheila Davis for questioning," he informed them. "She was one of Shermain Jones' known associates. His on and off girlfriend, and one of his former prostitutes. I think you should talk to her. She isn't cooperating with us, but she may know something."

#

Jane Daniels was sitting on a couch in the corner of a small, dusty room, reading an old children's book. She gasped silently, hearing the sound of the door being unlocked. She looked up at the front door, fear in her eyes. Her captor walked into the room slowly, closing the door behind, a grocery bag in the other hand.

Jane sighed, slightly relieved, but still scared. She observed her captor carefully, scooting away. The figure put the grocery bag down on the small table in front of the couch. He reached into the bag and pulled out a bagel and a bottle of water, putting the former on the near by plate, while placing the bottle on the table, next to the plate.

"Please... please just let me go," Jane managed to whisper, her whole body shaking. The captor stopped in his tracks, locking eyes with her. Jane shuddered.

"I won't tell anyone, I promise," she said, her face pale and her eyes watery.

The captor observed her for a few moments, then simply turned around and walked away. Jane looked after him blankly, until he left the room, closing and locking the door behind.

#

"I ain't saying nothing, all right?" Sheila spat out, glaring at JJ and Luke, while they were sitting at the table in the interrogation room, opposite to her. The camera near by was running, but she didn't care.

"Your boyfriend is dead," JJ pointed out. "Don't you want to help us catch the person who killed him? You could be in danger too. Think about it. Do you want a vicious killer out on the streets?"

Sheila scoffed. "I know how you guys roll. You're going to try to pin that on me. And he was no longer my boyfriend... at the time."

"The victims, Shermain included, have been brutally beaten, raped, stabbed, strangled... I doubt you did that," Luke said assuredly, looking Sheila in the eyes. "But maybe you know something that could help us find the person who did this."

"In the weeks prior to Shermain's disappearance, did you notice anything suspicious?" JJ asked. "Did he seem upset? Do you know if he had any enemies?"

"He was upset all right," Sheila answered. "One of his hos got offed."

Luke frowned. "A prostitute was murdered? Before Shermain was murdered, before those three bodies were found?"

Sheila nodded her head. "Yeah. About a month prior to that. Police questioned him, but he had an alibi. Two weeks later, another street girl went missing. Not his, but still. Obviously, something fishy was going on. Shermain was furious. He said he'd find a guy who hurt them and take care of "that problem" himself."

"Anything else that we'd have to know?" JJ asked.

Sheila frowned, looking down at the floor for a moment. "Shermain had a... small house. On an isolated location. It wasn't officially his. It was abandoned and he claimed it. Sometimes he'd keep his... stash there. Or bring girls there for some "fun time". I was only there a few times though. But I know exactly where it is."

#

Emily and Luke relocated to the workroom almost immediately, bringing Spencer and JJ in with them. Emily was patiently listening to Penelope, who was, like usual, on speaker. And, like usual, it didn't take her long to find the important information.

"Yes, there was a matching murder in Highland Park, two months ago," Penelope confirmed, typing away still. "A woman was found dead in an alleyway. Beaten, raped, sodomized, stabbed and strangled to death. No clothing, no IDs, no personal items. She was identified via fingerprints. Kelly Ferguson, thirty five. Multiple arrests for solicitation and possession of narcotics. I just sent you the case file to your tablets."

"But you found no hits in ViCAP, right?" Luke asked.

"Right," Penelope confirmed. "I guess nobody bothered including that case in ViCAP database."

Emily sighed. "A prostitute found murdered in a low-income neighborhood, high crime area... nobody suspected that that murder was a work of a future serial killer."

"Until they found three dead bodies in a field, in a safe, suburban neighborhood," JJ added.

"And, two weeks later, thirty two years old Jenny Willson was reported missing," Penelope read. "By her mother. Jenny also had multiple convictions for solicitation. No current address, though judging by the reports on her arrests, she seemed to operate in Highland Park a lot over the last few years. She remains missing to this day."

"Let me guess: both women look the same, right?" Spencer commented more than asked. "Caucasian, average height and weight, long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale perplexion?"

"Yes, I'm looking at their mugshots as we speak," Penelope confirmed.

"So, they've been killing prostitutes who look like that from the beginning," Luke concluded. "Even before they murdered two male victims."

"If Shermain wanted to "take care" of the unsub-well, unsubs-himself, that could have angered them," Emily suggested. "That would explain why they killed him. Out of revenge. And self-preservation."

"But what about Chuck Winters?" JJ wondered.

"I don't know," Emily admitted. "But we should search the house that Sheila told us about. There may be more clues in there."

"Heck, maybe the unsubs took it over," Luke suggested. "They could be using it as their torture chamber now. That could have been their additional motive to murder Shermain."

"We better bring the backup then," Emily decided.

#

"Freeze! FBI!"

SWAT team rushed inside the house, with Emily, Luke and Spencer following closely behind, their guns drawn. The house wasn't big: it took them less than half a minute to search it, and the area around it. Nobody was there.

Emily sighed, holstering her gun. Luke and Spencer did the same, looking around.

"Well, I stand corrected," Luke said. "It looks like the unsubs didn't take over this place after all."

"Still, it wouldn't hurt to take a closer look around," Emily decided.

#

After half an hour of extensive search, it was becoming quite clear that the hide out likely didn't contain many important clues, if any. Mostly it was just some old furniture, some tools, lots of dust, and disgusting amounts of used condoms, empty beer bottles and cigarette butts all over the floor.

"I doubt the unsubs are using this house," Emily said, looking around Shermain Jones' old hideout. "It is pretty dusty. I doubt anyone used it in a while."

Spencer frowned, taking a close look at some dusty tools on a rusty metal table near the window. One of the shovels was visibly cleaner than the rest of the tools, and there were traces of soil on it. Spencer took a look around and soon concentrated on the near by window, observing the yard through the dusty glass. "Odd..." he noted, observing that area of the yard carefully.

"What, exactly? Emily asked, walking over to Spencer, followed by Luke.

"All this tools are dusty..." Spencer started, pointing to the tools on the near by table. "Like they haven't been used in a while. Except for this shovel. It is dusty, but not as much as the rest of the tools. And there is some soil on it." He turned towards the window again. "There are plenty of rocks on this part of the ground. It doesn't really match to the rest of the yard... like somebody placed them there in order to cover that spot... or mark that location... We should have forensics examine this area with sonars, but I'm pretty sure that there is a human body buried here", Spencer concluded before turning to face Emily.

#

A middle aged man looked around nervously, feeling sweat running down his face, as he pulled over his Volvo near the end of the alleyway, just a feet away from a pretty blonde woman standing at the corner, dressed in red tank top, low cut black leather skirt, and black stockings. He licked his lips as he locked eyes with the woman, her lips widening into a cheeky grin as he did. The man pulled the driver's side window down, as the woman approached him.

"Looking for a fun time, baby?" she mused.

The man licked his lips again, feeling himself shiver. "How much?" he near whispered, his mouth dry.

The prostitute smirked. "Fifty gets you a bj, a hundred gets you anything you want."

The man smirked, pulling out several bills and showing them to her. "I got a hundred," he said, louder this time.

The prostitute chuckled. "Then you can have anything you want." She raised her eyebrows at him. "Wanna do it here?"

Her latest john looked around, then nodded his head, smiling nervously. "Why not?"

He climbed over on the back seat awkwardly, then opened the door for the blonde. She smiled and climbed inside, closing the door behind. She took his money and pocketed it immediately, then leaned over and kissed him hard on the lips.

The man moaned, a bit startled, but soon reciprocated, his body filling with arousal.

Neither of them noticed a black SUV pull up at the end of the alleyway, facing the man's car directly.

The whole time, the two people in the SUV, a man and a woman, watched the couple in the Volvo intently, breathing heavily as they did. By the time the man came, letting out a high pitched cry, the unsubs grinned, pulled the gloves on, and prepared their kill kit. They staid in the SUV for a few moment, watching the john climb off the prostitute and pant, a goofy smile on his face. Then they walked out of the SUV, closing the door behind, and started walking over to the Volvo, their hands gloves and their hoodies on, the female unsub carrying a plastic bag.

The john sighed, turning to face the prostitute again. "That was great", he said, smiling widely. The prostitute smirked at him.

"I'm a professional, baby. But unless you've got another hundred, we're done now."

Just when she picked her panties up, the female unsub opened the door and jumped inside. Before the prostitute could react, the brunette wrapped an apron tie around her neck, and pressed her body against the blonde's. "Don't move," the unsub whispered into the victim's ear. "I can wrap this even tighter around your pretty little neck, babe."

At the same time, the male unsub entered the car through the right door and subduded the man. He wrapped one hand around the man's waist, holding him tightly, and used his right hand to hold a knife under the man's throat. "You were so horny you didn't even lock the doors, huh?" he commented, staring into the man's terrified eyes. "Idiot."

The female unsub put the bag down on the floor, freeing one of her hands. She pulled out a protective plastic, unfolded it, and quickly plastered the whole back seat and the car floor with it. The male unsub smiled at her, lust and pride sparkling in his eyes.

"What do you want?" the man asked, cold sweat running down his face, tears welling up in his eyes.

"First, we want some music! Ain't that right, babe?" the brunette exclaimed before reaching over and punching at the car radio, thus turning it on.

As the catchy tune filled the car, the female unsub removed the rope from the victim's neck, then quickly pulled her arms behind her back, and tied her wrists tightly. The male unsub pulled an apron tie from the jacket pocket and bind the man's wrists, still somehow managing to hold the knife in one hand, now keeping it pointed at the man's chest.

"I got my first real six-string, bought it at the five-and-dime..." The brunette chanted as she pulled the camera from the bag, as well as a tripod. She placed the tripod on the car floor, near by, and put the camera on it, then turned it towards the victims, and turned it on.

"Played it 'til my fingers bled, was a summer of '69..." She sang as her partner grinned and kicked the male victim in the ribs, making him scream against the gag. He reached into his jacket and pulled out one towel, that he used to cover the window on the near by car door. The female unsub did the same from her side. She then grinned and punched the blonde in the face. The blood splattered over the protective plastic as the victim struggled to scream. Within moments, the brunette punched her again. Their muffled screams filled the alleyway, but to no avail. Their fate was sealed.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Criminal Minds" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Sorry about the delay, I've been busy. Also, sorry about the length of this chapter, but there is lots of stuff going on and I'm trying to include plenty of profiling in this story, so this ended up being extra long. Still, I hope you'll enjoy it. The next chapter will probably be the last.**

Emily, Spencer and Luke frowned, observing a red image on a big blue screen. The forensic tech standing near by looked at them, then back at the screen, before nodding his head.

"The sonar image is clear," the forensic tech explained. "The human body is buried here, about four feet deep. It will take us some time to dig it up though. And then even more to identify him or her."

Luke, Spencer and Emily thanked him before turning around and heading away from the house, toward their vehicle.

"Well, forensics and M.E. will confirm it, but I'm pretty sure that is the missing prostitute, Jenny Willson," Luke said.

"The unsubs dumped their first victim on a public location, in a low-income neighborhood," Emily reasoned, nodding her head. "The case didn't get much attention. Then they abducted and murdered another prostitute, and probably dumped her body on a public location too, in that same, or close by, neighborhood."

"But Shermain Jones found it first," Luke concluded. "He was a pimp. He didn't want johns to stop coming there, and prostitutes being too scared to turn tricks there. And he didn't want police in that area either. So he decided to cover it up. He transported the body to here and buried it." He frowned. "Wasn't that quite risky though? Burying the body on your own property?"

"He probably panicked, couldn't think of a better location," Spencer suggested. "Not to mention, not many people knew about this house. Shermain wasn't even an official owner. And he could have easily moved the body later, once the dust settled."

"And I'd bet that Shermain also decided to conduct his own investigation," Emily added. "Which didn't stay secret for long. The word on the street was that Shermain was going to find the killer, or killers, and take care of the problem himself. Maybe he even tried to do something after the very first murder. Maybe he was "patroling" the neighborhood at night, and that is when he found Jenny Willson's body. Or maybe it was just a weird coincidence."

"So the unsubs got rid of him," Spencer continued. "They managed to eliminate him before he could eliminate them. Then they waited for two weeks, until the dust settled a bit, and then they abducted, tortured and murdered another prostitute. They kept the bodies in a freezer, and later dumped them on a public location, in a suburban neighborhood. They finally got the attention they wanted."

"Soon enough, they murdered another prostitute, and left her body in a truck stop bathroom," Luke added.

"The only victim that doesn't fit into this equation is Chuck Winters," Spencer pointed out.

"There is something else I've been wondering," Luke said. "We know that they murder women of the same victim type. Early to mid thirties, Caucasian, average height and weight, blonde, blue eyes, pale perplexion. But they always target prostitutes. Do they simply target them because they are high-risk victims, or is that a part of the victim type as well?"

"They were able to abduct and murder a low-risk victim, Chuck Winters, and they display a high level of organization and forensic sophistication, so it's probably the latter," Spencer concluded. "They aren't merely satisfied with their victims, female victims, being of certain age, race and physical appearance. They also need-want-them to be prostitutes."

"Many serial killers try to justify their crimes by going after prostitutes, homeless people and drug addicts," Emily pointed out. "They see themselves as "cleaners", even if they only target such people of a specific race and/or a physical appearance. And some serial killers, and budding serial killers, have had abusive prostitute mothers. Or prostitute mothers who abandoned them at an early age. Kenneth Bianchi, Mary Flora Bell, Henry Lee Lucas, Billy Flynn, Benjamin Tony Atkins, Pedro Alonso Lopez..."

Just when they reached the crime scene tape, detective John Caal approached them, a notepad in one hand and a cellphone in the other. His facial expression was the one of exhaustion, as well as concern.

"I just got a call from the forensics," he informed them, a concerned look on his face. "They identified the prostitute found dead in a truck stop bathroom. Tara Ketchum, thirty two. No surviving family, no listed address for the last five years, nobody reported her missing. Also, her hand turned up."

"Who received it?" Emily asked, her eyes widening.

John sighed. "We. It was mailed to the local precinct."

Emily groaned. "They are taunting the authorities now. Great."

"They also sent us a note, reading: "It is only by way of pain one arrives at pleasure."," John added.

"That is a quote by Marquis de Sade," Spencer pointed out.

"They sure got their role model right," David couldn't help but comment.

At that point, John Caal's cellphone rang. He immediately answered the call. "Hello?" His face fell. He sighed. "I see," he said, nodding his head. "All right, thank you. We'll be right there."

He pulled the phone shut, and turned to face Spencer, Luke and Emily. "They found two more dead bodies," he informed them, concern evident in his voice. "Adults, a man and a woman. The M.O. seems to match this series of murders."

#

Detective John Caal was standing near the car, going through his notepad, while Spencer, Emily and David were inside the car, taking a close look at the back seat, and the bodies there. Nude bodies of a young man and woman, covered with bruises and stab wounds, seated next to each other, with a neatly folded bundle of clothing in between. Bloody, capital letters written on the windshield read: "EXPECT MORE".

"The car is registered to thirty four years old Danny Lake, a city clerk," detective John Caal informed them, flipping through his notepad. "DMV photograph matches the male victim. The patrol drove by half an hour ago and found them. The M.E. estimated that both victims had been dead for one, maximum of two hours before the bodies were found. Uniforms are still canvassing the area, but all they've found so far are other prostitutes, and homeless people. There aren't any security cameras near by either."

"They slipped away once again," Emily commented, frustration and anger evident in her voice. "Left us a taunting message too."

"I wouldn't be surprised if they owned a police scanner, helping them evade patrols," David suggested.

"It doesn't seem like the... unsubs kept either victim for three days though," detective John Caal continued. "At least not him. They even left their clothing and IDs behind. The female victim just had an old ID card. Jeanine Stinson, thirty years old. The photograph seems to match. But we might have caught a break this time. Responding officers found another prostitute doing tricks near by. Looks like she saw something around the time of the murder. Forensics also found a condom wrapper and a used condom on the car floor. Maybe our unsubs got sloppy, left a piece of evidence behind. You said they probably have a prior criminal record. If at least one of them has a DNA profile in CODIS, we got them. Don't worry, they just collected that piece of evidence and took some swabs so far, since some... biological evidence tends to degrade quickly. Everything else is intact." He sighed, looking around. "Forensics also found some tire tracks near this alleyway. They are fresh, and some parts are pretty clear. It must have been parked here recently, for quite some time. Unfortunately, the tracks are still partial. They probably won't yield much information."

"From that location, the unsubs would have had a clear view of this vehicle," David concluded, looking in that direction.

"Forensics also found some brown fibers on the asphalt near this car," John added. "Maybe that will reveal something."

"They really did a number on the male victim this time too," Emily noted, studying the body carefully. "Looks like they sodomized him with a tire iron. Before killing him, of course. Judging by the amount of blood and tearing on the body."

"Probably with his own tire iron," Spencer concluded, taking a closer look at the weapon. "Danny Lake's, I mean. Its shape and size seems to be consistent with tire irons used for Volvos, such is his car."

"So, this was the primary crime scene," David concluded, frowning.

"They even left the clothing, IDs and personal items behind," Emily noted, going through the victims' pockets. "Didn't take any valuables either. Everything is still in Danny Lake's pocket. A wallet containing two hundred dollars in cash, his wrist watch, wedding ring... and a package of condoms and a chewing gum." She frowned, taking a closer look at the clothing, and inhaling sharply. "Though, judging by these stains and smell, the unsubs still made sure to soak the evidence with medical alcohol. They aren't slipping up yet."

"We called mr. Lake's wife," detective Caal mentioned. "We will fully interrogate her in the morning. So far, she told us that her husband called her tonight at about eight pm, and told her that he would have to work late. We also called his boss. As it turns out, Danny Lake left work at around eight thirty pm. Obviously, he had lied to his wife."

"He probably went here, picked up the prostitute... and the unsubs decided to murder them both," David concluded. "They either encountered them here, or followed one of them into the alleyway."

"Well, one thing is for sure: this is really off script," Emily noted, observing the bodies closely. "Two victims, not held captive for three days, murdered and left on a public location." She frowned, taking a closer look at the victims' mouths. "There are also signs of gagging. There is tearing in and around their mouth, fibers inside... And the unsubs used an improvised weapon to sexually assault one of the victims."

"They left a message written in blood too," David noted, glaring at the windshield. "So edgy..."

"You think this may be a work of a copycat?" detective John Caal suggested.

Spencer shook his head, before taking a closer look at the bodies. "I doubt it. Some intricate details are the same. Both victims were beaten, then stabbed and strangled to death. The woman's right hand was cut off. They cut off her hair and removed her nail polish and lipstick, again. They took the bindings, and gags, with them. Bind marks seem to match to the ones found on other victims. And judging by the scent present on the bodies, and the fibers covering their skin, the perpetrators scubbed the victims clean with gauze and medical alcohol. None of those details have been revealed to the press."

"Barely any blood inside the car... no evidence that they cleaned up the crime scene itself either. They probably made sure to cover the back seat and the floor with protective plastic before committing the murders," David concluded, observing the car seats closely. "They probably did that while committing other murders too. A forensic countermeasure."

"There are some indentations here, on the car floor..." Spencer noted, taking a closer look at the car floor. "The shape and position seem consistent with a tripod." He observed the bodies again, a look of realization appearing on his face. "The unsubs videotaped these murders," he concluded. "They probably videotaped the others as well."

"You think they are escalating?" Emily inquired. "That we can expect more victims soon?"

"They are definitely escalating," Spencer concluded, nodding his head. "But they are still pretty methodical and organized. Maybe, after getting this big thrill rush and shocking the public, they will abduct a single prostitute and return to their usual M.O. For a while, at least. It is rare, but it happens."

"They didn't dispose of the clothing this time, though," David said, noting the folded clothing on the car seat, positioned in between the bodies. "Maybe they forgot, or they didn't care."

"Or the victims were already naked, or mostly naked, when the unsubs attacked them," Emily suggested, frowning. "And the clothing was a part of the unsubs' fantasy, and/or a message for us." She took another look over the crime scene before turning to face detective John Caal. "You said that forensics recovered a condom wrapper and an used condom on the car floor," she reminded him, frowning. "It seems unlikely that these unsubs would miss such an important piece of evidence. Especially since they must have covered the back seat and the car floor with protective plastic before committing the rape and murders. But that condom seems to be the same brand abd size like the package of condoms found in Danny Lake's pocket; I saw forensics store the evidence a while ago. Also, one of the "bruises" on Danny's neck is lighter and smaller than the rest. It looks more like a recent "hickey"... "love bite". And his wrist watch and wedding ring were found in his pocket, suggesting that he took them off himself. He didn't just pick up a prostitute, he had sex with her before he, and her, got killed."

"And those tire tracks show that another car was parked near this alleyway for quite some time," Spencer added.

David straightened himself up, frowning as he tried reasoning the change in M.O. "They follow one of the victims to here," he started, the scene playing out in his mind. "Danny Lake picks up the prostitute. He has sex with her, in his car, on the back seat. The unsubs lie in wait, and watch, completing their fantasy. And when the victims stop having sex, when they are both relaxed and satisfied, the unsubs strike and take all that away." He frowned, before turning to face detective Caal. "You said forensics found some fibers near the car?" he asked.

Detective Caal nodded his head. "Yes. All over the asphalt here," he said, pointing to the area near the back of the car.

"Seems like somebody put up a blanket on the ground, near the car," Spencer concluded. Almost immediately afterwards, he widened his eyes and turned to face Emily, his mouth almost agape at the realization. Arriving to the same conclusion herself, Emily groaned, covering her mouth with her hand. "God..."

John frowned, confused. "I don't follow," he admitted, looking at Spencer and then back at Emily and David.

Emily sighed. "We're pretty sure that, after raping and murdering these two victims, the unsubs put a blanket on the asphalt near the car... and had sex with each other, probably while looking at the dead bodies laying in the car near by," she explained, a disgusted look on her face.

"This clothing seems neatly folded," Spencer noted, taking another look at the crime scene.

"Maybe the victims did that after undressing," John suggested.

"It is way more likely that the unsubs put the clothes out of the way, and positioned it for us to find, as a taunt, a part of the fantasy..." Spencer concluded, straightening himself up. He took one more look at the crime scene, when the look of realization appeared on his face. He turned towards Emily and David. "We profiled that at least one of the unsubs has a prior criminal record," he said. "Based on the high level of forensic sophistication, and the neat way this clothing was fondled, and carefully positioned between the bodies... their prior crimes could have been something quite serious. I think that at least one of the unsubs spent some time in prison or a mental institution."

"That could help us narrow the search," Emily noted, before turning to face detective John Caal. "You said that there is a witness this time?" she inquired.

"Yes," John confirmed, nodding his head. "Sort of. There was another prostitute doing tricks a block away. Police patrol found her while searching the area. We think she might have been doing tricks when the murder took place. She could have seen something important."

"Is this one cooperative?" David asked.

"Surprisingly, yes," John answered. "She is young, she doesn't want a criminal record for solicitation. And she doesn't want us to think that she is involved in this murders. She claims that she saw a white Volvo drive into this alleyway, at around eleven pm. A black SUV drove shortly after it. After the man, presumably Danny Lake, drove the Volvo into the alleyway, out of her sight, the other driver parked the SUV near by. After a few minutes, two people exited the car; a man and a woman, dressed in black. Then they went into the alleyway, and about an hour later, they ran back into the SUV and drove off. Tracy never saw the white Volvo again."

"Well, that confirms our theory about a man-woman killing team," Emily concluded. "And now we know exactly what kind of the car they are driving; black SUV."

"But, unfortunately, Tracy can't provide a detailed description of either killer, since it was dark and they were both dressed in black, with hoodies on," John informed them. "She can only confirm that they were both Caucasian, with brown hair, and that the man was taller. She also didn't see the licence plates. The car lights were off."

"Maybe a cognitive interview will help her remember more details," Emily suggested.

"You can try, but she's pretty shaken up," John said.

"Of course she is," Emily commented. "She is lucky to be alive. Had the unsubs happened to spot her, they would have killed her too."

"They probably missed her," detective Caal concluded. "She was standing at the other end of the street and it was dark."

"Or maybe they spotted her, but figured that she wouldn't be able to get a good look at them, or the car," David suggested. "So they simply didn't bother. Maybe they also hoped she would be the one to discover the bodies. That would have definitely increased the shock value. And the intimidation factor."

Spencer frowned. "Prostitutes are easy targets for serial killers and rapists, aren't they?" he pondered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What are you getting at, Spencer?" Emily wondered.

"It may be a long shot, but what if the unsubs previously abused some prostitutes, probably the ones matching this specific physical appearance, without murdering them?" Spencer suggested. "I mean, Fred and Rosemary West abducted and molested a teenage girl together, and later set her free. That is one of the reasons why they started killing their victims. She testified against them. Leonard Lake and Charles Ng made several violent amateur pornographic films together, before they started abducting and killing people. Some of those films starred Leonard's wife."

David nodded his head, obviously agreeing with Spencer. "The unsubs would know that the police probably wouldn't believe their claims, at least not completely," he reasoned. "And that the prostitutes are reluctant when it comes to cooperating with authorities, even when somebody wrongs them. The unsubs could have even drugged them with Rohypnol or some other date rape drug, to make them forget about the abuse."

"There may be more victims out there," Spencer pointed out. "Living victims. Even if they were drugged, some may remember important details about the unsubs."

"But, at this moment, let's focus on Tracy," Emily decided.

#

Tracy clasped her hands, squirming on the couch as she looked at Spencer and then at Emily, concern evident in her eyes. "Why am I here?", she asked, trying to hide shivers in her voice. "I already told those detectives everything I know. Everything I saw. And I had nothing to do with those murders."

"We know that," Emily said, assuredly. "We would just like to try something called "cognitive interview". That could help you remember more details, which could help us catch the people who committed those murders."

Tracy sighed, a bit calmer now. "OK," she agreed, nodding her head. "Let's do it."

"All right," Emily started, smiling slightly. "Close your eyes and try to relax", she advised softly.

Tracy leaned back in the couch, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Emily waited for a few moments before speaking again. "Where were you when you saw them? What time was it?"

Tracy shuddered. "I was about... twenty feet away from that alleyway. On my, you know... trick site. I remember glancing at the clock on the other end of the street... it was eleven pm."

"Think back to certain details," Spencer advised her. "Sounds, smells... what was the weather like?"

Tracy gulped before answering. "It was a really quiet, slow night... kind of chilly... I felt myself shiver. It was that same, disgusting odor all around... like every other night. The air reeked of beer, piss and cigarettes."

"And then you saw them," Emily pointed out, observing Tracy carefully.

Tracy nodded her head, keeping her eyes closed. "Yes... I was bored, I kept looking around... and, soon after that Volvo drove into that alleyway, a black SUV pulled up next to it. The alleyway, I mean."

"Concentrate," Spencer said. "Can you see the license plate? Any distinct markings?"

Tracy frowned. "No... it's pretty dark, the car lights are off... I can't see the license plates. And from what I can see, that SUV looks... normal. No scratches, no dents, no stickers, anything."

"They didn't come out right away, did they?" Emily pointed out.

Tracy shook her head. "No... they remained sitting inside. They appeared to be observing... looking into that alleyway. That lasted for about ten minutes. I don't see them really well, but they were definitely looking in that direction."

"Can you make out any details?" Emily asked. "Hair color, clothing, eyes, facial features... maybe one of them had a scar, or a mole, or a tattoo somewhere?"

Tracy sighed. "It's really dark. They are both white. They are wearing dark, full- body clothing. They both seem to have brown hair. They... they both have something on their hands... left hands... not gloves, some sort of jewelry... I can't make it out from there."

"And, after about ten minutes, they got out of the car," Spencer said. "What happened next?"

Tracy gulped, clenching her fists. "They both walked into the alleyway... the woman was holding a black plastic bag in her hand... I couldn't see what was inside."

"But you can see them more clearly now," Emily said. "There was another street light near the alleyway. Describe them."

Tracy took a deep breath, drops of sweat appearing on her forehead. "They both have the hoodies on... the man is taller, at least six feet... fit... he got out from the driver's side", she claimed, breathing heavily. "He was holding a car key in his hand, right hand, for a few seconds... he locked the car and then pocketed it. The woman was holding the bag in her right hand also.

"You can see their hands more clearly now," Spencer pointed out, observing Tracy carefully. "You said that they both had something on their left hand", he reminded her softly. "A jewelry. What was it?"

Tracy frowned, squirming on her spot. "Something round... shiny... on their fingers..." She sighed, an aimage slorly clearing up in her mind. "Ring fingers... they were both wearing wedding bands," she exclaimed, almost gasping once the image appeared in her mind.

Spencer and Emily exchanged a look.

#

Spencer was so focused on watching multiple security footages on his new tablet that he didn't even notice somebody approach the workroom. Officer Aubrey Bellick had to knock on the already opened door to get his attention.

"Doctor Reid?" she asked as he looked up, sounding somewhat uncertain, almost shy.

"Yes?" Spencer replied, frowning slightly.

"Uhm... I noticed there were no new leads in the case... the child killer case," Aubrey started, looking Spencer in the eyes. "That got me thinking. I went and searched the archive, looking for sex crimes, and crimes against children in general, that happened within the geographic profile, but didn't result in a conviction, and maybe weren't even digitized, or preserved during our latest computer system upgrade. Something that we, and you, might have missed." She sighed, putting the file in her hand down on the desk, in front of Spencer. "I found a possible clue."

"Mark Smith, thirty five," she explained as Spencer picked up the file and opened it, immediately flipping through the pages. "He was accused of attempting to abduct a ten year old boy back in 2005, but he was never charged due to a lack of conclusive evidence, and because the victim was unwilling to testify against him. He lived right in the center of your geographic profile. That crime actually happened near his house. So, I called the city dministration, and the local DMV office. Matt Smith still lives in that same house, currently works at a local computer store, and owns a white Sedan. He also owns a small shed in the woods on the edge of the city, that he inherited from his father, who died four months prior to the first murder."

"Sounds like a viable suspect," Spencer agreed, looking up at her. "Thank you. We'll look into him," he thanked her, a smile appearing on his lipa

Aubrey nodded her head, smiling back. "You're welcome." She sighed, a look of concern appearing on her face. "I sure hope you find this guy. What he's done to those children... it's horrible."

"Like we said, we'll do our best," Spencer said assuredly, giving her a sympathetic look.

Aubrey sighed, looking around for a moment before turning to face Spencer again. "Dealing with single homicides is bad enough... how do you... your team... handle all of this?"

Spencer frowned for a moment, shifting in his seat. "We know that we're putting evil people away, thus also saving lives. That is a powerful motivation. And that is, also, what you do. But as a whole... I guess you simply have to find your outlet. Or, at least, someone to confide with."

They exchanged a look. Aubrey smiled slightly. "Thank you," she said softly, blush creeping up her cheeks.

Spencer smiled back. "You're welcome."

Aubrey nodded her head before turning around and walking away, while Spencer picked up the case file and went to inform Emily.

#

Mark Smith shifted on his sofa, glaring at Spencer and Emily, who were sitting on the couch, opposite to him. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Once again, I never abducted or attempted to abduct anyone", he claimed. "I was never charged with anything, let alone convicted. That was a case of a mistaken identity."

"Where were you on August 2nd this year, between four and five pm?" Emily asked, looking him in the eyes.

Mark sighed. "I don't know... that was two months ago. I was home, alone, I guess."

"And on September 5th, between three and four pm?", Spencer asked.

Mark shrugged. "The same, I guess... I mean, it's not like I can clearly remember where I was and what I did on a particular day, at a particular time, a month ago."

"How about five days ago, at night?" Emily asked. "From ten pm to seven am?"

Mark sighed. "I was home. Alone. I watched TV from about eight to eleven pm, then I went to sleep. I got up at about seven." He frowned. "Wait, you don't actually think that I have something to do with those murders, right? I could never do something like that! I'm not a monster! I've never hurt anyone."

Spencer glared at him. "I think it's interesting how you've got that large window in this hallway near by, and that there's a chair near it." Mark gulped, the color leaving his face. Spencer locked eyes with Mark and continued, his voice stern. "From what I can see, that window overlooked the near by playground. You like watching children?"

Mark shuddered, gritting his teeth. "How date you?", he spat out. "It is like you have it out for me! Go interrogate real suspects."

"Maybe you could put our mind at ease by allowing us to take a look around your house, and in your car," Emily suggested, smirking.

Mark groaned, standing up. "You won't be seeing anything without a warrant," he said determinently, glaring at them both. "And I'd like you to leave now."

#

Emily and Spencer took one more look at Mark's house before walking away, down the street. It seemed like he was peeking outside, watching them, but they weren't sure.

"I don't think he's the unsub," Spencer said as he and Emily continued walking over to their vehicle. "He did seem nervous when we asked him did he really tried abduction that boy, and does he watch the neighboring children. But when we asked him about the murders, he was looking us in the eyes, he was sitting still, he answered all the questions fairly quickly... he had it together. He was honest."

"Yeah," Emily agreed, nodding her head. "Plus, his house and yard looked pretty messy. Even dirty. That doesn't match the organized and methodical nature of the abductions and murders." She remained silent for a few moments, before turning to face Spencer and asking him, gently: "Spencer, are you OK?"

"As well as I can be at the moment," he said, signing. He looked down at the ground for a moment, shoving his hands down his pockets. "I took some time off", he reminded her. "I'm seeing an appointed therapist. I am doing well."

"You are free now," Emily said softly, looking at him. "Bad guys do try to get us from time to time, but we win in the end."

"Or die trying," Spencer whispered, looking away.

Emily sighed, feeling herself shiver. "We will solve this, Spencer. And we are safe now."

"For the time being, yes," Spencer agreed, nodding his head. "But even if we do win in the end, all those bastards out there will continue trying. Trying to hurt us." He sighed, feeling himself shudder. He looked down at the pavement for a moment before continuing. "And, more often than not, succeeding. They haven't killed us... not all. But they sure managed to hurt us. Multiple times."

"But that only makes us stronger," Emily mantained. "Dozens of other times, we catch them, coming out unscathed, and put them away forever. And we still have each other."

Spencer smiled, turning towards Emily. "Yeah, I guess we do."

They got into their car and headed back to the precinct. Off to find a new lead.

#

Soon, they all found themselves back at the precinct, pondering all the evidence again. And getting nowhere, again.

After an hour, Spencer sighed, running his hand through his hair before putting his tablet down on the table. David, JJ and Tara were also sitting at the table, going through the case files on their tablets.

"So, I finished watching those older security footages, again," Spencer informed them, sighing. "Nothing suspicious. No black SUVs driving by at the time of the disappearances or in the days before the bodies were found, no such vehicles driving there multiple times on the same day... the unsubs are pretty good at evading detection."

Others sighed and nodded their heads as a sign of understanding, sighing heavily as they did. They only looked up once Emily walked into the workroom, a tablet in her hand and a worried expression on her face.

"Forensics managed to get one usable fingerprint from the child's body found in the woods, two miles away from that field," she informed them. "One of the fingers wasn't that badly decomposed. They ran the print through the nation-wide missing person's database and got a match. Kerri Jensen, ten years old, lived in Hamtramck. Went missing on her way home from school, a month ago. After three weeks without any leads, the parents decide to provide Kerri's fingerprints, DNA sample, photograph and dental records to the database. Preparing for the worst while hoping for the best. Sadly, the worst case scenario came true."

"That is why we missed that disappearance," JJ concluded. "It happened in a different city."

"Meanwhile, that killing team is getting bolder," David added, groaning. He frowned, clasping his hands. "So, we know that they target blonde prostitutes in their 30s. We know why they killed Shermain Jones," he reasoned. "He wanted to stop them, catch them himself, kill them. But what about Chuck Winters? It doesn't make sense."

As the last word left David's lips, Spencer's face lightened up, his eyes widening. He turned to face his colleagues, a theory now fully formed in his mind. "Unless Chuck Winters is the "other" unsub we are looking for," he suggested, sounding both thrilled and almost shocked. "The child killer."

Others just stared back at him in silence, eyes wide, like they understood his point, but his theory still sounded too wild to be true. After realizing that, Spencer began his explanation, wheels quickly turning in his mind.

"We profiled that unsub to be a Caucasian man between the ages of twenty and forty," Spencer pointed out, his tone of voice quick and determined as he kept going through all the conclusions and possibilities in his mind. "Chuck Winters was Caucasian, twenty eight years old. He drove a white Volvo, just like we profiled. We also profiled that the unsub likely works as an IT technician, and has a prior criminal record. Chuck worked as an IT technician, and he had a prior criminal record for vandalism and burglary. The profile also indicates that the unsub probably suffered some kind of stressor shortly prior to the murders. Chuck's neighbor, Jack Teeger, mentioned that Chuck's mother died about a month prior to the first murder. And look at this," he said, pointing at the map in the center of the nearby board. "Chuck Winters lived right in the middle of that geographic profile."

"He was stealing their spotlight," Emily continued, a look of realization appearing on her face. "Two-well, three-serial killers active in the same area, at the same time... one of them had to go."

"But if that is what happened, how did they find out that Chuck was the child killer?" JJ wondered.

David sighed. "Often times, serial killers are the best profilers."

Tara frowned. "Kerri Jensen, a little girl found murdered in the woods... we know that the M.O. doesn't match to the one of the child killer, though the victim profile does. The forest she was found in is located near the field where the bodies of Chuck Winters, Shermain Jones and Sharona Jenkins were found. And, according to this missing person's report, Kerri went missing the day before Chuck Winters disappeared." She looked at Spencer and then back at Emily, her eyes wide. "What if the murder of Kerri Jensen was not the work of the child killer at all?" she suggested. "What if Kerri was abducted by the killing team, the unsubs targeting adult victims, and used as a bait, to lure the child killer out? Or to put Chuck Winters on a final test, confirm that he is the child killer?"

"Making her a collateral victim," Matt added. "After she served her purpose, they killed her to cover their tracks. Why abduct her from Hamtramck though?"

"A forensic countermeasure," David suggested. "Or maybe they have some sort of connection to Hamtramck."

"Also, if they abducted her from Detroit, police would probably suspect that was the work of the child killer too, giving him even more spotlight," Spencer added.

"But we searched Chuck's home," Luke pointed out, sounding confused. "We found nothing linking him to the murders. No news reports about the murders, no child pornography, no trophies..."

"But we also determined that somebody else was in his home and searched it," Emily pointed out, growing more and more convinced of Spencer's theory. "Before us and before other detectives. Somebody who took Chuck's laptop. And those hard drives and cables Chuck had been stealing and selling... what if he was saving money in case the police started closing in on him, and he had to go on a run?"

"He could have also been using some of that money to lure his victims," Matt suggested. "He shows them the money, says he will pay them if they go with him and help him run some minor errand, they approach him, maybe even get into his car... he gets a drop on them, chloroforms them... and we all know what happens next," he concluded with a heavy sigh, a disgusted look on his face.

Luke frowned, now thinking hard about that theory himself. "Jack Teeger, Chuck's neighbor, mentioned that, over the last two months, Chuck would often leave his home late at night, in his car," he recalled, frowning. "He didn't know where he was going. He could have been going to an isolated location where he stashed his victims after abducting them during the day, in order to torture, rape and murder them, and then dump their bodies. And, later, he could have been visiting abduction and/or dump sites at night, in order to relive his crimes."

"Garcia tried accessing Chuck's computer and Internet records via his Wi-fi and IP address, but they have been protected with several firewalls," Spencer mentioned. "We didn't think much of it at the time. Chuck had a prior criminal record, he worked as an IT technician. We figured he just wanted to protect his privacy, and prevent a possible identity theft. But maybe there were some materials on his laptop that he wanted to make sure were well-hidden and secured."

"There is a problem with this theory though," JJ pointed out, shifting in her seat. "Chuck Winters was murdered a month ago, and Jane Daniels was abducted five days ago."

"Unless we got it wrong, and Jane Daniels was abducted by someone else, not the child killer," Spencer theorized.

"The main suspect would usually be the father, but he has an alibi," Tara said.

"Unless he hired someone to abduct his daughter," JJ suggested, frowning.

"I'll tell Penelope to check is the company that Chuck Winters worked for located near some kind of isolated location," Emily decided, pulling out her phone. "An abandoned house, woods... and I'll have her check Brian Daniels' phone and email records, anoften bank account. As well as dig deeper, see if Chuck Winters might have had a sealed juvenile record. That's the only way we can be sure that our theory is correct."

#

A fit, brown haired man sighed as he used a ceramic knife to cut a delicious piece of pork into several big but relatively equal and linear pieces. He was quick but efficient, like always. As he put the meat into a frying pan, he listened attentively. The kitchen was right next to the dining area, and the service window was almost always opened; great source of information. Especially since the restaurant he worked in was located near one of local police stations.

"Still no new leads on those two killers, huh?" he heard one man comment more than question. His companion sighed.

"No... we will double the patrols in today," he explained. "Those are the neighborhoods with the highest prostitution rate. The problem is, there are plenty of high-crime areas, and we don't have enough resources to surveil them all. Not even with FBI in town."

"Actually, there may be three killers," the third cop chimmed in. "You heard those rumors about the prostitute killer being a work of a killing team, right?"

"Well, it's not like the killer, or killers, know where and when our officers patrol," the second man replied. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Maybe..."

The chef grinned as he watched the pork fry in a pan, smell of roasted meat filling the kitchen as the newfound information filled his mind.

#

Tara Lewis was taken aback by a loud sound of approaching footsteps, echoing throughout the precinct hallway. She turned around, a cup of coffee in her hand. She saw a clearly distraught Jennifer Daniels, Jane Daniels' mother, approaching her, followed by a local police officer, Aubrey Bellick.

"I'm really sorry," Aubrey apologized immediately, trying to keep up with Jennifer. "She came in here and demanded to talk to someone from the BAU. I tried to explain that we all make sure to keep her informed when necessary, but..."

Jennifer locked eyes with Tara, a mixture of pain, fear and determination on her face. "I heard that the police found a child's body in the woods yesterday," she said, Tremors evident in her voice. "Is that Jane?"

Tara frowned. "That information hasn't been revealed to the press yet."

Jennifer sighed, choking back a sob. "Well, people talk. There are rumors... claims... I heard from a guy at the grocery store. He lives near the woods and has a police scanner. So, is it true, and... and if it is, is that dead child my daughter?" she asked, her voice breaking at the last word as her body shuddered, two tears running down her face.

Tara looked her in the eyes and said, as gentle as possible: "Ms. Daniels, calm down. Let's go someplace private. I'll explain everything. Don't worry."

Though reluctant and still on the edge, Jennifer nodded her head and followed Tara down the hallway, away from the crowd. They went to the small, currently empty workroom, about thirty feet away. Tara let Emily go inside first, then followed after her. She closed the door behind, quickly put the blinds on, then turned to face Jennifer, looking in her tears filled eyes. "The body found in the woods is definitely not your daughter," she said assuredly. "Forensics just identified her as the girl who went missing a month ago, from a different city. We aren't even sure that a serial killer targeting children is responsible for that murder."

Jennifer stared back at Tara, her eyes reflecting both a relief and still present doubt. "Really?" she asked under her breath, like she still couldn't believe it.

"Yes," Tara said softly, nodding her head. "The body found in the woods isn't your daughter."

Jennifer let out a heavy sigh of relief, nearly collapsing into a near by chair. She gulped before running her hands down her face and letting out a silent sob. Tara sat down at the chair opposite to her, waiting for Emily to calm down a little. Once she did, Tara offered her her own cup of coffee, smiling slightly as she did. Jennifer nodded her head, whispered "Thank you," took the cup and immediately drained half of it. For a while, they were just sitting there in silence. It took a while for Emily to ask the next question. "So... are there any leads in... my daughter's case?"

Tara thought out her response carefully before answering. "I can't reveal any major details, but we are pursuing several leads at the moment. It looks promising."

Jennifer sighed. She wiped her tears before leaning back in her chair and gazing through the near by window. "I... I can barely function, knowing that my daughter is... trapped somewhere, with some creep. How can I eat, sleep, relax, even for a moment, when my child is who knows where enduring who knows what..." She groaned, clasping her hands and looking down at the floor. "If I just as much as think, for a moment, what he might be doing to her at the moment..."

"Try not to think of the worst," Tara advised her gently. "Don't lose hope." She frowned, once again choosing her words carefully. "Have you considered Staying at a family's or friend's for a while, or talking to a therapist?"

Jennifer looked up at her, a look of realization appearing on her face. "I... I haven't even considered that," she admitted, almost sounding surprised. "I've been so overwhelmed by all this, constantly worrying about Jane... and I keep thinking how I must stay at home as much as possible, in case she returns... I know that it's irrational, but still..."

"We are working hard on this case. And there is still a patrol car set up near your home. So don't worry about that. But you need to help yourself now. You don't have to endure all this alone. At least think about that, OK?"

Jennifer smiled slightly, then nodded her head. Tara smiled back, hoping that Emily will follow her advice, and that they will find her daughter soon. Alive and well.

#

Within an hour, they were both back in the main workroom, sitting around the table, going over the case files on their tablets, and their notes. Luke sighed, putting his tablet down on the table before leaning into his chair. "I'm seeing nothing new here", he admitted. "And Garcia is still trying to find evidence to support our latest theory."

Spencer rubbed his eyes. "I checked Chuck Winters' phone records. Again. Just in case. Nothing suspicious."

Just when he finished the sentence, Emily's ringtone went off. She pulled out her phone, checked the caller ID, and, seeing that it was Penelope, immediately answered the call and put her on speaker, before saying: "Talk to us, Penelope!"

Soon, Penelope's voice filled the room.

"So, I am still looking into Chuck Winters' life and phone, email and bank records. But I thrully checked Sharona Jenkins' phone records, looking for a creepy guy named Malcolm" Penelope informed them, her eyes focused on her computer screen. "Most of the outgoing and incoming calls were made to the number listed as "Kendra". Some calls to the men, and several women, most of whom are listed under nicknames, and have prior convictions for picking up prostitutes, and a drug possession. No evidence of anyone named Malcolm though. Out of those people, two are currently in prison for drug possession, and the third has been in Miami over the last two weeks."

Penelope then shifted in her seat, a grin appearing on her face as she made it to the important information. "But then I checked police records," she said before she began reading the information off the monitor. "There is a guy named Malcolm Sanders, who lives close to one of Sharona Jenkins' known trick sites, has a prior criminal record for vandalism and burglary, and in 2012, he was convicted of an aggravated assault. He beat up a prostitute. He owns a black Sedan. He currently works as a cook at "Derby's". He also works, part time, as a delivery man for the same restaurant. Accordig to his work records, he sometimes makes deliveries to the homes located close to the field where the bodies of Chuck Winters, Shermain Jones and Sharona Jenkins were found. Then I looked into known associates, as well as women in his life. He isn't married, he has no siblings, his mother died ten years ago, all of his former cellmates are either dead or back in prison. But he has a first cousin, named Veronica Sanders, who lives close to him. She has a criminal record for burglary and drug possession. In 2010, they were arrested for burglary together. Before she her criminal record, Veronica worked at a local pharmacy. Their phone and computer records show that they communicate regularly, and that they are both fond of violent pornography. Sometimes, they even exchange certain... materials. Nothing involving the victims, as far as I was able to force myself to watch, but still..."

"Do any of them live on or near an isolated location?" Emily asked. "An abandoned house, some woods?"

"No," Penelope answered. "But the pharmacy where Veronica used to work is currently closed down," she informed them.

"Any evidence of a recent stressor in their lives?" Spencer wondered.

Penelope frowned, taking a closer look at the information on the monitor and typing away some more. "Well, medical records show that Malcolm's mother died from liver cancer three months ago," she read. "And Veronica was mugged four months ago. How ironic."

Matt frowned. "They aren't married, to each other or other people, and Malcolm drives a black Sedan rather than an SUV, but all the other elements of our profile fit."

"There are too many simmilarities for us to ignore this," Emily decided. "And it's not like we have any other suspects at the moment. Penelope, send us their home and work address!"

"Done!"

#

A tall, fit, clean shaven brown haired man, still dressed in white shirt and blue pants, slumped into an armchair in his living room, laptop in his hands, and a DVD box in his hand. He pulled the laptop open, took a deep breath, then opened the box and put the disc inside.

A few more clips, and an image of a naked, tied up blonde appeared on the screen. As the tape began, sounds of crying, beginning, and punches filled the room. He saw himself punching and kicking the victim sprawled over the basement floor, covered with protective plastic. The brunette was near by too; she'd usually watch and laugh, often taunting the victim, but she'd sometimes throw a punch or a kick herself. The man grinned, staring at the screen with eyes wide.

Meanwhile, a big black SUV, transporting Emily Prentiss, Spencer Reid and Matt Simmons, pulled up near a derute, one-store house near a dark alleyway. Agents exited the car and headed toward the front door.

The brown haired man moaned silently, licking his lips as the tape continued to play. On the footage, he just kicked the bruised blonde in the face, then quickly pulled his pants down. The brunette stood near by, and laughed.

Emily Prentisss, Spencer Reid and Matt Simmons went up to the front door. Emily knocked. They waited.

No response.

Another knock. And an introduction. "Malcolm Sanders, this is FBI! Step outside, please! Keep your hands where we can see them!"

Silence. Waiting.

At that point, a brown haired man, dressed in blue T-shirt and grey sweatpants, opened the door, nervously stroking his beard. "FBI?" he exclaimed. "What seems to be the problem?"

Emily flashed her badge, followed by Spencer and Matthew. "Unit chief Emily Prentiss, these are SSA Spencer Reid and supervisory agent Matt Simmons," she introduced herself, and her colleagues. "We are investigating a series of murders in the area," she explained, looking Malcolm in the eyes. "We have to ask you a few questions. Down at the precinct. Please, come with us."

"OK, I guess," Malcolm muttered, stepping outside.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the city, a tall, fit, clean shaved brown haired man was sitting on an armchair in his living room, his laptop on his knees, grinning widely as he watched wicked images popping up on the screen, desperate cries, gasps and moans echoing throughout the room.

#

Malcolm ran his hands through his hair, gulping as he looked up at Spencer and Matt. His facial expression was a mixture of annoyance and worry. "Once again, I had nothing to do with those murders", he claimed. He groaned as he glanced at the crime scene photographs. "And put those away, please."

"You fit the profile," Matt pointed out. "You and Veronica."

Malcolm sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sure we're not the only one."

"How did you get the bruises on your knuckles, and that cut on the inside of your right hand?" Spencer inquired, observing Malcolm's hands carefully.

Malcolm flinched for a moment, but remained relatively calm. "Hurt myself while working."

Spencer frowned. "Some pretty... peculiar injuries for a cook."

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "House work. I was fixing some shelves at home."

Matt frowned. "Where is Veronica, by the way?" he asked. "We sent the patrol to her place. She isn't at home. She isn't at work either."

Malcolm shrugged, looking away. "Once again, I don't know."

"She's your cousin," Spencer pointed out. "You were arrested together back in 2010. Phone and email records show that you communicate regularly. Actually, she is the only family you have left."

"That doesn't mean that I have to check up on her every day," Malcolm said, gritting his teeth. "I've got a life of my own."

"Does that include sleeping with prostitutes?" Spencer asked, taking a step closer to Malcolm. "The third victim, Sharona Jenkins... her friend told us that she'd sometimes sleep with a john named Malcolm. Some pervert who'd like to beat her, choke her, threaten her with a knife... as a part of the "game". Is that you, Malcolm? You live in the area. You have a criminal record. Including an assault charge. You beat up a prostitute."

Malcolm smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Even if I was sleeping with her, and I don't think you can prove that I did, that doesn't mean that I killed her, or anyone else," he said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. "I'm sure she had slept with bunch of other... perverts, the way you put it."

"We'll see what we can prove after we search your house and car," Matt said, glaring at him.

Malcolm scoffed. "Good look getting a warrant."

Spencer shrugged, smirking at Malcolm. "The whole city's on edge. I'd bet the comissioner is desperate for any leads. I doubt we'll be having much problems." He frowned, carefully observing Malcolm. "What happened? "Make-believe" wasn't enough for you? You had to start torturing, raping and murdering people? Is that how sick you are?"

"I wonder how tough you will be when you end up behind bars," Matt taunted. "Again. This time for life. In that cage until the day you live, surrounded by all those rapists and murderers..."

"Look, I haven't tortured, raped or strangled anyone!" Malcolm cried, nearly jumping off the chair. "And neither has Veronica! I know her! Leave us both alone!"

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. He remained silent for a few moments, running a hand through his hair, avoiding eye contact. "If I'm not officially under arrest, I'd like to leave now," he said, trying to sound calm and collected, despite his recent outburst. "And if I am, I'm not talking to you anymore. I want my lawyer."

#

Soon aftetwards, Matt and Spencer left the interrogation room, meeting up with Emily and JJ, who had been standing outside the whole time, watching the interrogation through the one-way mirror and listening to it through the microphone. All four had disappointed look on their faces.

"Malcolm's not our unsub," Spencer announced. "He said: "I didn't strangle them." We know that the victims have all been both stabbed and strangled, and that the man is doing the stabbing. We keep the case under wraps. Media has only revealed a few intricate details. Sounds like a kind of mistake that someone who only knows about the murders from the media would make."

"He didn't even look at the crime scene photographs long enough to see what really happened to the victims," Matt added. "He genuinely seemed disturbed by them."

"Maybe he was acting," JJ suggested.

Emily shook her head. "I don't think so. When he said that he didn't strangle them, he was loud, nervous. Like he lost his cool. Afterwards, he kept avoiding an eye contact, running his hands through his hair. He was ashamed, worried. His outburst was genuine."

"He didn't seem very concerned about Veronica either," Spencer pointed out. "He barely asked any questions about her. The real unsub would worry that the authorities would find her, and get her to turn against him and testify in an exchange for a lighter sentence or some privileges. Or that they will hurt her while arresting her. He'd ask questions, try to set the suspicion off her."

At that point, detective John Caal approached them, a similar look on his face. "I did some digging, contacted the police stations and precincts in different neighborhoods," he explained, looking Emily in the eyes. "As it turns out, Veronica Sanders was arrested for burglary. She's been in the county jail for the last three days. They still didn't add that information in their computer system, so we didn't know about that from the start. They've got plenty of cases, especially in that neighborhood... sometimes it takes them weeks to add the information about minor, common crimes in their database. I heard some write reports on typewriter because there aren't enough computers. And yes, they still haven't gotten around to sending someone to search her apartment as a part of the criminal investigation."

Emily sighed. "Our unsubs murdered three victims over the last three days. The last two the last night. So much about Malcolm and Veronica being responsible."

"Hopefully, we'll find an actual lead soon," JJ said.

Emily groaned, looking away. "Yeah... hopefully."

#

Seven years old Ray smiled as his mother tuckled him in the bed, giving him a warm smile. He smiled back, but couldn't help but ask: "Mommy, do you have to work late tonight?"

Brittany tried to keep on smiling, in order to hide obvious sadness that threatened to spill over her face. "I'm sorry, honey. I have to be. But grandma will be here. And it won't always be this way."

Ray frowned at her. "Promise?"

Brittany's smile widened. She nodded her head, stroking Ray's hair. "Promise."

Ray smiled. Brittany kissed his forehead and smiled at him before leaving the room.

Once she did, she sighed, then went to her bedroom. She took her sweater and sweatpants off, opened the closet, and quickly put on short black leather skirt, tight white top, and black leather boots. She took a good look at herself in the near by mirror, fixed her hair, adjusted her skirt, then sat down at the near by table. She opened the top drawer, pulled out her make up kit, and carefully applied dark red lipstick and thick black eyeliner. Finally, she stood up and exited the bedroom, closing the door behind, and headed toward the door. She barely even looked at her mother, Stephanie, who was sitting on the living room couch, watching reruns on an old TV set. But her mother took a long look at her, a mixture of worry and disapproval in her eyes. Before Brittany could leave, Stephanie spoke up.

"You shouldn't be... going out now," she said, her voice soar. "You heard about that killer on the news."

Brittany rolled her eyes, before glaring at her mother. "And from what I've heard, he hasn't killed anyone from this neighborhood."

"Yet," Stephanie couldn't help but comment.

Brittany sighed. "I can take care of myself, mom. I have a seven year old son. And you've got MS. Welfare check isn't enough."

Just when Brittany was about to walk out, Stephanis spoke up again. "Brittany... I never wanted this kind of life for you. Nor my grandson. I'm sorry."

Brittany sighed. "I'm sorry too, mom. But I guess it's too late now."

Stephanie didn't say anything. Brittany left.

Soon enough, Brittany was, again, in a dark alleyway a few blocks away from her apartment, like she had done dozens of times before. The traffic was slow that night though. No john in an hour; not a single car car even pulling up close.

Brittany frowned, seeing a black SUV drive into the alleyway, and pull up a feet away from her. Finally; a potential... client. She smiled seductively and walked over to the driver's side window, seeing a tall brown haired man leer at her.

"Hi, baby," she said seductively, grinning at him. "Looking for some fun?"

The man grinned back, eying her curiously as he pulled the window glass down. "I sure do," he said before licking his lips. "How much?"

The blonde smirked. "What do you want? Handjob, bj, or all?"

The man chuckled, his eyes burning into hers. "Oh, I want it all."

"Hundred bucks," Brittany replied, winking at him.

The man chuckled, reaching into his pocket, and pulled out a wallet. He reached into it, fumbled for some time, and eventually pulled out a hundred dollar bill, grinning as he turned to face the blonde again. "I guess tonight is my lucky night," he mused. "Can we do it here, on the back seat?" he asked, his voice dark and deep.

The blonde felt herself shiver, but she nodded her head. "Sure," she agreed. The man nodded back, got out of the car, and gave her a hundred dollar bill. She took it, as the man opened the left side back door for her, smiling politely as he momitored for her to come in. Brittany smiled back and climbed into the car. She saw some black bundle on the floor, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She barely noticed it at first.

As soon as she was inside, the man closed the door behind her. In the next moment, the black bundle on the car floor sat up, revealing herself to be a young brunette, dressed in a black clothing, with latex gloves over her hands. She was holding something in her right hand; a taser. Before Brittany could even scream, the brunette pressed the end of the taser against her chest, then pressed the button. Brittany felt painful jolts of electricity rip through her muscles as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, her limbs turning limp. Within seconds, she collapsed on the car floor, unconsciousness. Once the man got back into the car, on the driver's seat, the brunette already finished tightly binding Brittany's wrists with apron ties. The man smirked, observing the perverse act in the rear view mirror.

"You never let me down, baby," he mused, leaning over to the back of the car. He shared a passionate kiss with his companion before turning around, putting the seat belt on, and turning the key into the ignition. As his accomplice covered their next victim with a blanket, he drove off, back to their lair, ready for another fun night.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Criminal Minds" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **And we have reached the end. Sorry about the delay, but it took me some time to tie all the knots together. Big thanks to everyone who has followed this story from the beginning. I hope you'll enjoy this.**

 **Just a note: I started writing this story before season thirteen premiere (which is also when I published the first chapter, on August 19th), and I've written the story assuming Peter Lewis would remain active for some time to come. Of course, the whole thing turned out very differently on the show, but I decided not to chahge the course of this story. Here, he is still alive and on the run, though that won't be mentioned much; not directly. Just a clarification.**

Jane Daniels was sleeping on a couch, her body curled into a tiny ball, her face pale, her lips dry and her hair a mess. As the first sun beams peeked through the windows, Jane was jolted awake by a sound of heavy footsteps approaching the cabin from the outside. Sitting up on the couch, she rubbed her eyesyand looked around quickly, her heart thundering against her chest. She couldn't see anything through the windows, but she kept listening, attentively. Footsteps were getting louder and louder, approaching the door.

Within seconds, the door knob rattled. Somebody was trying to open the door, but it was locked. Then the sound of a key twisting inside the lock was heard.

Jane screamed, scooting away and covering her face with her hands as two women and a man ran into the cabin with guns drawn, screaming: "Freeze! FBI!" But it soon became apparent that they weren't after her. They searched the cabin quickly, making sure that nobody else was inside, and once they did, they all stopped and holstering their weapons. Then, a dark haired woman approached Jane and gently took her hands, moving them away from her face. She looked Jane in the eyes, a warm smile on her face.

"Jane? Don't be afraid. Nobody is going to hurt you. We're from FBI. We've come to rescue you."

"I wanna go home!" Jane cried, still shivering.

"We know. Come on. We're going to take you back to your mom."

Jane nodded her head and stood up, swallowing a lump in her throat. Emily gently took her hand and led her outside, back into the freedom and safety.

#

Emily, Tara, David and detective Caal smiled as they returned to the precinct, heading back toward the workroom. They stopped near the door and took a moment to observe hugging her daughter, Jane, tightly, tears of jos running down her face. Then they both glared in the direction of a holding cell, on the other end of the precinct. Police officers escorted two men inside. One of them was Jane Daniels' father.

"Once Garcia checked bank and phone records, it all became clear," Emily explained, smiling. "He withdrew five hundred dollars from his bank receipt a month ago. Phone records also showed that, as of lately, he spent a lot of time communicating with his coworker, Jack Evans, who had a criminal record for extortion and grand lancery. Now they're both in custody."

"City records also showed that Jack owns a cottage in local woods," Tara recalled. "Once we raided it, we found Jane. We'll have to take her to hospital for a complete check-up, but according to the initial examination, other than some bruises, she is OK. Physically, at least."

"So, paid to abduct his daughter, while he alibies himself at work," detective Caal concluded. "And he planned to flee the country with her once the dust settled."

"What an asshole," Tara couldn't help but comment, a disgusted look on her face.

"He used the child killer case to cover his tracks," David concluded, sighing.

"How come traces of chloroform were found in Jane Daniels' room?" John wondered. "And how come they matched the one used on the two child victims? Those information haven't been revealed to the public."

"Jack must have used the chloroform on Jane," Spencer figured. "That is a common choice when it comes to kidnappings. The child killer is hardly the only offender who used it. In the murder case, it was a common type of chloroform. It could have been a coincidence."

"At least we found Jane Daniels," David commented. "She wasn't abducted by a serial killer after all."

"Only that serial killer is still out there," Tara pointed out. "I mean, in case he wasn't Chuck Winters."

"Don't worry; he was," Spencer exclaimed as he approached them, a case file in his hand. "Garcia couldn't find any juvenile record on Chuck Winters. But I remembered that some of the files haven't been digitized, and that not all the records remain after the computer system upgrade, especially sealed juvenile records", he explained, before handing the case file to Emily. "So I checked the archive. I found several files labeled under Chuck Winters' name. The record was sealed, but not expunged." "At the age of thirteen, Chuck Winters was charged with voyerism. He peeped in the elementary school locker room, watching underage girls change. He received a year probation and one hundred hour community service. At the age of fourteen, he was arrested for possession of child pornography. He spent a year in local juvenile facility. At the age of sixteen, he was accused of exposing himself to a ten year old girl, but the charges were dropped due to a lack of conclusive evidence, and because the victim was too ashamed to testify. I also took a closer look at his adult criminal history. He had been convicted of vandalism because he broke a window of a local day care center while several children were inside. As for his burglary conviction, he burglarized a home owned by a married couple with two young children, while the family was away, and he evidently spent a lot of time rummaging through the childrens' rooms, especially underwear drawers, as well as family photo albums found in the house."

"A monster in disguise," Emily sighed, looking up from the case file.

"His juvenile record is mostly sealed, but after some further research, Garcia managed to find a social service report, as well as several police reports," Spencer revealed. "When Chuck Winters was eight years later, his father walked out on him and his mother, never returned. There were suspicions that he had been physically and emotionally abusive towards them, though that was never proven. At the age of ten, Chuck was repeatedly bullied and molested by a fifteen year old boy from his neighborhood. The abuse lasted for months until Chuck worked up the courage to tell his mother. She informed the authorities and the perpetrator was arrested. Chuck also had a younger sister, Heather. In 2002, when Chuck was thirteen and Heather was eight, and they were playing outside one day, she was killed in a hit and run accident, in front of him. Police never found the driver. On Chuck's fifteenth birthday, the man who molested him committed suicide, and reportedly named Chuck in his suicide note."

"All those traumas must have warped his sexual development," David concluded. "It only got worse later on in puberty, then into an adulthood. He started out as a voyeur and flasher, moved on to vandalism and burglary. His fantasies continued to develop, expand, his urges kept growing, becoming more and more intense and violent. He probably watched child pornography on his laptop, though he did a very good job hiding it. His mother's death set him off, and he escalated to abduction, rape, and murder."

"Penelope did recover one interesting information about Chuck Winters though," Spencer added. "His workplace, actually. The IT company he worked for owns a storage room, but they haven't been using it over the last year. I also told the forensics to process Chuck's house again, take a closer look. They did. Though Chuck was pretty careful, and the other two unsubs almost certainly searched his home afterwards and got rid of the incriminating evidence, forensics recovered small traces of chloroform in Chuck's basement. It matches to the ones used on child victims."

"So, it looks like we solved the Jane Daniels' abduction case, and the child killer case," David concluded. "Too bad we still have that killing team to catch."

They were interrupted by officer Aubrey, who quickly approached them, a concerned look on her face, and a phone in her hand. "Detective Caal," she exclaimed, her face pale. "They tried calling you, but you weren't here and you wouldn't answer your phone."

John frowned. "I always turn my phone off when I go on assignments like this. What happened?"

Aubrey sighed, worry evident in her eyes. "The last victim's hand was just discovered."

"Who discovered it?" John asked, albeit not suprised by the revelation itself.

"It was mailed to a news agency," Aubrey explained. "A bigger one, in the centre of Detroit. Though they also made sure to inform us that won't stop them from making big news out of the whole thing, and that there is nothing we can legally do to stop them."

"Maybe JJ could talk to them," Tara suggested. "Convince them not to give those monsters the news coverage that they want."

Emily shook her head. "Better not," she said before explaining herself. "These unsubs are very violent, very organized and very hungry for attention and publicity. If we withhold that from them, who knows what they might do next."

"In the envelope, they also received a note reading: "We are become death, the destroyers of worlds," Aubrey informed them.

"Only the original quote reads: "I am become death, the destroyer of worlds"," Spencer pointed out. Soon, he frowned, hears turning in hid head, a look of realization slowly appearing on his face. "You know, we initially profiled that the male unsub is a dominant one, since he rapes the victims and uses a knife to murder them, while the female unsub is a submissive one. But, taking in the account the way they rephrased that quote, and keeping in mind that they both participate in the act of murder, I think what we have here is a rare but quite possible case of two dominant, organized unsubs co-existing. They are both dominant and sexually aggressive. And they have found a mutual outlet."

"So much about the whole "opposites attract" thing," David commented, sarcastic as always.

"Does that make any difference?" John asked, frowning.

"Well, that means we won't be able to turn them against each other, and neither of them will go down without a fight," Spencer informed him.

Emily sighed. "We better catch them soon. This just keeps getting worse."

At that point, Aubrey's ringtone went off. She pulled out her phone and stepped aside before answering. "Hallo?" Soon, her face fell. She suppressed a groan. "I understand. OK, I will inform them immediately. Thank you."

Aubrey hung up and sighed before walking over to the others again. She turned to face Emily. "You're right about that", she said, almost sounding afraid. "I just got a call from missing persons'. A woman named Brittany Smith, thirty one years old, was just reported missing, by her mother, Stephanie Smith. Stephanie admitted that her daughter is a prostitute, she went out to do tricks last night and still hasn't returned home. She isn't answering her calls either. Brittany matches the victim type to a T. The detective from the missing person's noticed that, and remembered our warning, so he decided to inform us immediately."

"It may be too early to tell, but it seems that the unsubs have resumed their original M.O.," Spencer pointed out. "Meaning that we could have three days to save Brittany."

"Yes, but we know what they will be doing to her over the next three days," David replied, groaning.

"So we better hurry," Emily decided, heading toward the door. Others followed her.

#

Brittany screamed as the unsub punched her in the mouth, splitting both of her. She collapses on the floor, feeling a numb pain knocking around in her hand, and, once again, spit out some blood-as well as one of her teeth. She cried in both despair and pain, gasping for breath, at which point the brunette kicked her in the ribs, sending pain rip through her muscles. The woman chuckled, and so did her husband, still towering over, watching with delight as she writh on the floor.

"So, you're a screamer, huh?" he commented, a perverse grin in his eyes. He looked in the eyes as he licked his lips slowly, adjusting his apron. "I like that...", he whispered, nearly making gag.

"Please, just let me go," Brittany begged. "I won't be telling anyone."

The man chuckled, reaching under the apron. "I agree with a second part," he said, undoing his belt.

"I-I have a child..." Brittany whispered, her body writhing in pain.

"He or she will be better off without you, believe me," the unsub commented, before pulling his pants and underwear down. His wife smirked and handed him a package of condoms and a bottle of Vaseline, before walking over to, who shuddered. Brunette leaned into her, her lips brushing against the captive's ear. "This is going to be long and rough, baby", she whispered in a husky tone. "Getting wet already?", she whispered before licking ear, biting at the earlobe slightly, and groping her ass before she pulled away, and her husband started approaching the victim.

#

Stephanie Smith paced around the living room, a look of sheer terror on her face. She kept clenching her fists, in a desperate attempt to calm herself down.

"I knew it!" Stephanie cried. "I shouldn't have let her leave. This is all my fault." She shivered. "Her son is in his room, still waiting for his mom to return, I don't know what to tell him..."

"Ms. Smith, calm down, this isn't your fault," Tara tried, her tone of voice soft and assuring. "Do you know where your daughter left?"

Stephanie groaned, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know," she admitted. "She didn't tell me. God, I'm an awful mother..."

"Do you remember anyone following her away from this apartment?" Emily asked.

"I... didn't look after her," Stephanie whispered, looking down at the floor.

"Do you know of any of her common... trick sites?" Emily tried.

Stephanie choked back a sob. "No. We didn't talk much about such things."

"Did she mention any... suspicious clients?" Tara asked. "Somebody who would make her especially uncomfortable."

"We didn't really talk about that either," Stephanie admitted, her voice filled with shame ans regret. She looked Emily in the eyes, a pleading, desperare look on her face. "Please find her. I can't lose her."

Emily nodded her head and said: "We'll do our best," while trying to ignore a bad feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

#

Soon enough, all the members of the BAU were back in the main workroom, going through the case files again, only to turn up with no new leads. They were all mostly silent, except for Spencer, who just finished a phone conversation with the head of a local crime lab. He sighed, putting his phone down on the desk. "Further forensic testa showed that cables and cloths that Chuck Winters used on his workplace match to the ones used on the child victims", he informed the rest of the team, leaning back in his seat as he did. "He did a good job keeping that storage unit clean, but forensics managed to discover two usable fingerprints. One matches to Chuck Winters, the other matches to his second victim. He was definitely the first unsub, the child killer. Also, dental comparison confirmed that the body found buried near Shermain Jones' hide-out is the one of a missing prostitute, Jenny Willson."

David sighed, putting his tablet down on the desk. "Well, we now know all that for sure, but we are, sadly, still out of new leads," he pointed out, a tired look on his face.

At that point, Emily's ringtone went off. She pulled out her phone, quickly checked the caller ID, then immediately answered and put the caller on speaker. "Talk to us, Penelope."

Soom, Penelope's voice, little less cheery but still energic as usual, filled the room. "So, following your orders, I looked into cases involving prostitutes who have been raped, assaulted, over the last year, in Detroit, in low-income neighborhoods with high crime rates," Penelope explained, shifting in her seat, eyes focused on multiple computer screens in front of her. "Especially the prostitutes who match the victim profile; Caucasian, early to mid thirties, average height and weight, long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale perplexion. There aren't many of them, and I actually didn't find any actual charges filed, but I recovered three possible cases."

"Shoot," Luke replied, eager to learn the new information.

"So, in January this year, a blonde woman in her thirties wandered into a hospital in Herman Gardens, covered with cuts and bruises," Penelope read, trying not to show how much she was disturbed by that report, and the others. "She claimed she just woke up in an alleyway a few blocks away and had no memory of previous few hours. Hospital staff treated her injuries and took a sample of her blood and urine, and informed the detectives, who photographed her and took fingerprint and DNA sample. Before they could formarly question her or collected her clothing for forensic examination, she slipped out the back and took off. Fingerprints and DNA eventually identified her as thirty five years old Wendy Kemper, with prior criminal record for solicitation and possession of narcotics. They tried tracking her down and questioning her, but there was no current address on her. The case soon turned cold." Penelope pouted, glaring at the computer screen. "I tried tracking her down, cake up with ziltch. It hurt."

"It fits," Emily concluded.

"Almost identical thing happened in March this year, only in Chaldean Town," Penelope read. "This time, the victim was thirty years old Heather Adams. Multiple convictions for solicitation, assault and public intoxication. No current address listed, no active bank account or a phone number, no surviving family living in the area, hasn't paid taxes in two years, and she fled the hospital soon after the detectives first interrogated her. I have no luck tracking her down."

Luke sighed. "This isn't looking good."

Penelope continued. "Next, in June this year, thirty four years old Kyra Jones, a resident of Forest Park, with prior convictions for prostitution and theft, was found dead in her apartment," Penelope read, sadness evident in her voice. "Her death was ruled suicide by hanging. However, the autopsy also recovered cuts and bruises on her body, as well as evidence of vaginal and anal trauma, both about a week old. No suicide note was found on the scene. That case, too, soon turned cold."

"And the last one?" JJ inquired, frowning.

"In July this year, a month before the murders started, police patrol in Oakwood Heights picked up a blonde woman who was running down the streets, obviously terrified and disoriented," Penelope informed them, both excitement and fear evident in her voice. "She wasn't wearing her top and was covered with cuts and bruises. She had no IDs, refused to identify herself or tell what happened. She was taken to the nearest hospital, where she received pretty much the same treatment as, though this time, no signs of sexual trauma were found. Nothing was found under her fingernails either, except for small traces of Rohypnol, though tests eventually showed that there was none in her system. And that woman, too, sneaked out through the back before detectives could formarly interrogate her, or collect her clothing. Forensics extracted the DNA profile from her blood sample and ran it through CODIS. There was a match. Thirty two years old Christine Hodgins. Criminal record for prostitution and public intoxication. No known address lusted at the time."

David frowned. "Only partially dressed, no evidence of sexual assault, no cotton fibers or medical alcohol under her fingernails, traces of Rohypnol under her fingernails but none in her system... is the victim who escaped before getting raped or drugged. She is the witness we need", he concluded.

"Providing that we will be able to track her down," Matt commented.

"And that the unsubs haven't tracked her down and killed her already, to cover their tracks," Luke suggested.

"Sorry, my nerds, but you are both wrong," Penelope corrected them, sounding a bit cheery by that point. "Christine Hodgins is very much alive. According to the city and IRS records on her, she has been living in a rent apartment since September. She has also been working as a waitress since August. I just sent you her home and work address."

"So, she turned her life around," Tara concluded. "That incident must have been a wake up call for her."

"She must want the people who did that to her to pay," Emily reasoned. "And if we tell her that they have since turned to murder..."

"But she clearly doesn't trust the police much," Matt pointed out.

"Maybe we can persuade her," Emily suggested, sounding hopeful and concerned at the same time.

#

Emily and JJ exchanged a look before walking into a diner and approaching Christine Hodgins. They already had her picked outside; she was in the very corner of the diner, serving sodas to several teenagers sitting at the same table. Fortunately, other than them, there weren't many other people in the diner.

Emily waited for Christine to step aside, then she spoke up. "Christine Hodgins?"

Christine turned to face them. "Yes?" she replied, surprised but still sounding calm and polite. But her face fell as soon as she noticed their badge and a gun.

"We're from FBI," Emily explained, introducjing hersekf and JJ as they flashed their badges. "We have to ask you a few questions about... an incident from few months ago. When police patrol found you wandering the streets, partially naked and injured."

"What, now FBI is on that too?" she commented, trying to appear calm and dismissive. "Once again, I don't want to talk about it," she said, going over the orders written on her notepad. "And you can't make me."

"We're afraid that the matter is much more serious than you seem to think," JJ explained, trying to make an eye contact.

"Like I told those other detectives, I don't want to talk about it," Christine repeated, giving her an annoyed look. "And nothing serious happened anyway."

"We know it did, Christine," Emily said, lowering her voice. "And we have reasons to believe that people who hurt you murdered several other women," she revealed, making Christine widen her eyes, her face turning pale. She gulped, staring at Emily and at JJ, then at Emily again. Emily locked eyes with her and continued. "Women... like you. Like you were. We're serious. You must have heard about those murders on the news. The people who committed them are very likely the ones who assaulted you. You are the only one who saw them during the act and survived. We need your help. Another woman went missing yesterday night. They could be torturing her as we speak."

Christine sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment, her face pale. "I didn't see that much anyway," she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "And... the police, detectives... they always find a way to turn something against me. If I say what happened, they could charge me with... things."

"A little bit of new information is still better than nothing," JJ assured her. "And we're from FBI. We are working on this case and we are not interested in charging you with anything. You have our word, nothing bad will happen to you."

Christine wiped her tears away and looked around before facing Emily and JJ again. "My shift is about to end... I guess I could... tell you what happened," she decided.

"All right," Emily agreed, nodding her head. "After you finish and change, we will take you to the precinct. Don't worry, nothing bad will happen to you. We just want to provide you with a private location."

"We will do something called a "cognitive interview"," JJ explained. "It will help you relax and remember as much details possible."

"So, I'll have to relive that whole thing," Christine stated more than asked, a hurt look on her face.

"We understand that this is difficult for you," Emily said softly, looking her in the eyes. "But if you help us catch those guys, they will be put away for life and they will no longer be able to hurt you, or anyone else. And don't worry, you can tell us anything. And it will all stay between us."

"OK," Christine eventually agreed, nodding her head.

#

Brittany cried out, her body shaking with pain and disgust once Chris finally got off her, having violated her for the first time. Lyndsay was standing behind the camera, grinning. Chris smirked before pulling his pants and underwear up.

"Come on, no reason to be so whiny," he taunted her. "You must be used to such things by now."

Brittany sobbed, looking away. Chris chuckled.

"I'm gonna bring you some food and water now," he said, heading toward the door. "You need some nutrition. We don't want you to die... yet. Don't worry, my wife will keep an eye for you."

Brittany choked back a sob, her disgust and fear slowly turning into rage. Before Chris could leave the basement, she couldn't help but yell: "Why are you doing this to me, you pathetic freak?!"

Chris stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, his eyes a sheer death stare. He stared at her intently for several moments, completely silent, before running over to her and kicking her in the stomach. Brittany cried out, her body writhing in pain.

"Because you're a whore!" Chris yelled before punching her in the face. "Because you're a bitch!" He punched her in the face again. "Trash!" He kicked her in the ribs, provoking a blood curdling scream. "Disgusting piece of shit! Is that enough reason for you, or would you like me to go on?"

He kicked her in the ribs again, and spat at her. Lyndsay was laughing, observing the attack with delight. Chris gave Brittany a disgusted look before turning around and heading out of the basement again.

"You're gonna eat off the floor, of course," he announced, his voice dripping with contempt and twisted pleasure. "Don't expect us to untie you either."

#

Christine ran a hand through her hair before taking a sip of water. She was sitting on the couch in the interview room, while Emily and JJ were sitting on a near by sofa, facing her. Christine took a deep breath before looking up at them and declaring: "I'm ready."

"OK," Emily started. "Just close your eyes and try to relax."

"Easier said than done," Christine said, before closing her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.

"Where were you? What time was it?"

Christine gulped, running a hand through her hair. "I was doing tricks at, uhm, my usual location, an alleyway about a mile away from my apartment, near that sleazy night club," she recalled, her voice shivering. "I started at around eleven pm. They showed up at around midnight. They were driving a black SUV. The man was, I mean. He was sitting on the driver's seat. The wife was sitting on the back seat. I didn't notice her until I walked over."

"Do you remember seeing the licence plates?" Emily asked.

Christine shook her head, a look of regret appearing on her face. "No. I wasn't really paying attention to that. The guy... he told me he wanted to have sex with me, at his place, and that his wife liked to watch. Not really my thing, but not a taboo either. I needed money... I always did. I was so stupid. I said that would cost him four hundred dollars. He showed me the money. I got in the car, on the passenger seat. We took off."

"How did they look like?" Emily asked gently, carefully observing Christine.

Christine sighed, squirming on the couch. "I... it's kind of blurry... dark..." she recalled, frowning. "It was night, plently of street lights around didn't work, and they... they seemed to be avoiding an eye contact."

She sighed, leaning back into the couch as she clasped her hands. "The driver was male, Caucasian," she recalled, feeling herself shiver. "Tall. Brown hair. The other one, his wife... she was also Caucasian, but shorter... average weight... a brunette." "I knew that they were married because I noticed a wedding band on his, uhm, right ring find, and she had the same one." She gulped, clenching her fists. "I asked him about that. I asked: "Is that your wife, honey?" He sort of grinned and said: "Sure. Ain't she the sweetest thing?"" Christine sighed, shooting her head. "I'm sorry, I didn't really look at them... in a car. I'd look through the windows. That helps me... distance myself from... customers. I'd take a look at their hands every now and then. Just in case. Didn't notice anything suspicious."

"How long did the ride last?" JJ asked.

"Not sure," Christine answered, feeling guilty for missing out on that detail. "Could have been twenty minutes, could have been forty. I got carried away in my thoughts and then, suddenly, the guy pulled over."

"What did you see?" Emily inquired.

Christine shuddered. "Didn't get any street signs or anything..." she admitted. "But, after a while, he pulled over at the back of the house. One store house with a white facade. No fence. We went out of the car and started approaching it... to the blue wooden door in the back. They said that it was the entry to their "play room". They went in first, then I... they turned on the lights..."

She sighed, shivering, fear now clearly evident in her demeanor and voice. "That's what I saw it was actually a basement... it was all covered with protective plastic," she said, trying to remain calm. "The guy quickly stepped toward the door, from behind me, and closed and locked the door behind. And her husband... he reached into his right jeans pocket and pulled out a knife. He pointed it at me and said: "Don't resist, bitch, or I'll cut you to the ribbons." Then the woman approached him... that vile smug look on her face... and put an apron at him, as he held the knife pointed at me. I was just standing there, petrified", she cried, her face pale.

"Calm down, you're doing great," Emily advised her. "Relax... breathe... you are safe here. What happened next?"

"Then he approached me and... started cutting my clothes off," said, a bit calmer, albeit still disturbed by the memories. "He cut through the stripes of my T-shirt... it fell down... he moaned..."

"Do you remember getting a better look at his face?" JJ asked, carefully.

Christine shook her head, a tear rolling down her face. "No... I could barely look at him, his face..." she admitted, breathing heavily. "Every now and then, I would close my eyes and then have to force myself to open them... I thought about reaching for his hand, grabbing the knife, but I was too afraid... he was obviously stronger than me, his wife was also there... the blade was so close to my skin... my neck, chest... I was terrified, my heart was thundering against my chest, I started to cry... I thought they were going to kill me!" she cried, almost jumping in her seat.

Christine took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. Emily and JJ remained silent, observing her carefully, waiting for her to calm down and continued.

"As his hand was so close to me, to my face... sleeves rolled up... I... I saw something," Christine revealed, a look of realization appearing on her face. "On his right forearm. A tattoo."

"What kind of tattoo?" Emily asked.

"I... it was so brief," Christine said, withholding a groan.

"Relax," Emily advised her, eager to learn that piece of information. "Think. You must have noticed the lines, color... what kind of a tattoo was it?"

"Long, curvy..." Christine remembered, frowning. "Dark... A snake. A big, black one. With mouth agap, fangs and all, and a tongue sticking out."

"OK. You're doing good," JJ assured her. "You managed to escape them. How?"

"I... I started looking around, looking for any possible way out," Christine explained, running a hand through her hair. "I noticed a nail on the floor, underneath the protective plastic. Then the guy told me to lie down on the floor. I did, making sure to lie down next to that spot. Then the guy... lied on top of me and started... talking about the things he was going to do to me. But I managed to move my hands slightly... fingers, actually. I dug my nails into the plastic and managed to rip a small part off, and pull out a nail. The guy start cutting through my skirt, and I somehow managed to use a nail to cut through the binds."

"What did you do then?" Emily asked, trying to hide the tension in her voice.

"I was still afraid, but I knew I had no other choices. I quickly sat up and launched myself at him, pushing him away. He was taken aback, he dropped the knife. I tried to stab him with a nail, but he gripped at my wrist so hard I thought he was going to break it. His wife picked up the knife and ran over to me... I managed to use my weaker hand to elbow her in the chest. She went down. The guy screamed at me. I dropped the nail, but I managed to kick him in the groin, and then he went down, letting go of me."

"And then you escaped," JJ concluded, urging her to go on.

"Yes," Christine confirmed. "Everything happened so fast. I took my bra, didn't bother taking my T-shirt... it was cut apart anyway. I ran toward the door, unlocked it, ran away... and I just kept running. I'd look over my shoulder every now and then. They started running after me. But soon after I ran down the street in front of their house, into the dark alleyway on the other end, a big two truck drove down the street, cutting them off for a few moments. I quickly disappeared down the corner. And I kept running. I didn't see them after that, but I kept running."

"Where?" Emily asked.

"I have no idea for how long, or where," Christine admitted, regret evident in her voice. "I stuck to dark alleyways and passageways at first. Trying not to attract attention, stay hidden. Then I just kept looking for a closest bus stop or a cab or something. Then I ran into a police patrol... and the rest is history, I guess."

Finally, the interview was over. Christine opened her eyes, finally breathing a sigh of relief, her shoulders no longer (so) tense, her stomach no longer in knots. Emily and JJ gave her a warm smile. Christine pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes, still feeling her hands shake a little.

"Have I helped you?" Christine asked, her eyes watery, a solemn, but also hopeful look on her face.

"Yes, you have," Emily assured her, giving her a warm smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Christine replied, nodding her head. She gulped before looking up at Emily and JJ again, despair evident in her eyes. "Please find them", she pleaded, tremors evident in her voice.

#

All the other members of the BAU were sitting at the desk in the workroom, going through the case files. They were really focused on going over all those information, despite not finding any useful leads. At first, they didn't even notice Emily and JJ walk back into the workroom.

"Anything?" David asked, looking up at them.

Emily sighed. "The unsubs live in a house on an isolated location, one store home, no fence, white facade, with a garage and a basement. They keep the victims in a basement. The male unsub has a tattoo of big black snake on his right forearm."

Luke groaned. "Too bad we don't have any suspects to match all that information against."

"We delivered a detailed profile yesterday, but nobody has contacted us with a solid lead yet," Matt commented.

David sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I guess we encountered the most dangerous type of unsub. Antisocial and secretive, but good at fitting in when needed."

"And there are two of them," Tara added.

"So, I guess we'll have to find the suspects," Spencer decided, looking at Tara, and then at Emily and JJ, a determined look on his face. "Using all those information. The profile. Nobody knows of anyone who matches the profile, so we are going to find people who do."

Others just looked at Spencer, realizing he was on to something. Spencer frowned, a look of realization appearing on his face. "We know that they are likely married to each other, that they drive a black SUV, likely registered to the husband, and that they live on, or have an access to, an isolated location," Spencer reasoned, her voice fast and excited. "We know that the husband is likely in his early to mid thirties while the wife is likely younger. We know that at least one of them is a Caucasian. We know that the male unsub likely works as a chef, and that the female unsub likely works as a nurse. At least one of them has a criminal record, at least one of them likely spent some time in prison or a mental institution. At least one of them probably has some connection to Hamtramck. We have a geographic profile. Following a cognitive interview with Christine, we also know that the man has a tattoo of a big black snage on his right forearm, and that they live in an isolated, one store house, with a basement and garage, no fence, white facade. It is also very likely thaf at least one of the unsubs suffered a severe child abuse, quite possibly at the hands of a mother who likely fits some, if not all, characteristics of the women they are murdering. There very well could be records of that. The best we can do right now is tell Penelope to open police records, hack into DMV and employment records, ran all the info through the right categories, while limiting the search to a geographic profile, cross reference the results... and then we better hope that she finds one couple who matches all the criteria. Those two must be the unsubs. Penelope can recover those information, and there can't be many couples that fit the complete profile and live within the geographic profile." He took a deep breath and grabbed his phone. "Let's just hope she finds them soon."

#

They waited for half an hour. Nothing.

Another hour had pass. Spencer drank his fourth cup of coffee. Nothing.

Twenty more minutes. Nothing.

Spencer nearly jumped in place when his ringtone finally went off. He quickly picked up his phone, checked the caller ID, then immediately answered the call, putting the caller on speaker. "What do you have, Penelope?"

"So, boy-wonder, I ran and cross referenced all the elements from your brilliantly detailed profile, expanding my search to the people who weren't born nor grew up in Detroit but have been living here for a while now, and I found one creepy married couple who matches all the criteria. Chris and Lyndsay Benes."

"Can you tell us more about them?" Emily asked. She wanted to be sure they had the right ones thus time.

"I sure do," Penelope exclaimed. "So... Chris Benes. Formerly known as Michael Benes. Born on April 25th 1985 in Detroit. He currently lives and works uptown, rather than a ghetto he grew up in, works as a chef in Giovanni's. DMW records show that he owns a black SUV. As of 2015, he's been married to Lyndsay Benes. They live together, she works as a nurse at hospital. And before you ask, their mothers', both, looked exactly like the current victims."

"They have a criminal record, right?" Luke questioned. "And at least one of them spent some time in a prison or mental institution?"

"Oh, do they ever, newbie. I managed to unseal their juvenile records, and social service records relating to them. Like I said, Chris' name used to be Michael. He never knew his real father. His mother was a prostitute who was seventeen and living on her own when she gave birth to him. According to the social service records, would regulary beat him, emotionally abuse him, and sometimes force him to watch her have sex with her clients. There were also times when she'd lock him in the basement. Allegedly, she once kept him locked in there for three days. Allegedly, she even attacked him with a hammer once, breaking his right hand."

"That explains why he and Lyndsay keep the victims captive for three days, in the basement, before killing them," Spencer said. "And why they took up removing the victims' right hand and mailing it to the press. That and for the attention, I mean."

"Those claims were mostly made by the neighbors and teachers, who reported Maggie to social services several times," Penelope explained. "She was never convicted because there was no conclusive evidence and Michael was too afraid to testify. Michael, now Chris Benes, built up a juvenile criminal recird for vandalism, voyerism, burglary and animal cruelty. At the age of fourteen, he was accused of beating, raping and robbing a young local woman, a cashier at a store, but was never convicted because there was no conclusive evidence and the victim was too afraid to testify. Still, Maggie gave up parenthood rights and placed Michael into a group home soon afterwards," she read, disgust evident in her voice.

"I bet he didn't take that well," Emily suggested.

"Oh, no", Penelope exclaimed, feeling herself shiver. "Within a year, Michael managed to escape, and he went straight to his mother's house, armed with a knife that he had taken from the kitchen. He forced her into the basement, beat her up, ripped her clothes off, tied up and gagged her with improvised items, cut her over the face and chest, burned her hands and face with a lighter, raped her, and sodomized her with a broomstick. Thick walls, neighbors were few and far between after many derute homes around were tearn down a year before... nobody heard her screams. Anyway, after that vomit-inducing deed, Chris forced bleach down her throat, bludgeoned her with a hammer, and stabbed her forty times over the face, chest, arms and abdomen, alternating between using the kitchen knife and a screwdriver that he found in the basement. Thus, you know, murdering her. He apparently took a shower, got dressed and stole her cash, jewelry and other smaller valuables. He then found several bottles of vodka and some matches, spilled hard liquor all over her body and the basement, and set it on fire before fleeing."

"Very different from his current M.O.," JJ noted.

"That was his first murder, and it was inherently personally," David explained. "He was still "finding himself". Experimenting."

"I could barely find any news articles about that crime, or his trial," Penelope informed them. "Probably because, the same morning Chris murdered his mother, a teenager named Stanley Newman committed a mass murder in Detroit High school, murdering five students, two teachers, a janitor and a principal, and seriously injuring two other students before committing suicide. It was big news for weeks afterwards, and it affected the community for years."

"As a result, Chris Benes never got the attention and notoriety he felt he deserved," Luke concluded. "And it definitely shows."

"Police caught him a week later, when he tried to pawn some of his mother's jewelry," Penelope informed them. "He was charged, tried as an adult, found guilty, and sentenced to twenty eight years in prison. Twenty five for murder in the first degree, and three for breaking and entering and arson setting. He was never convicted of rape because the defense was able to argue there was no conclusive evidence that he raped his mother, due to a damage the fire did to her body, though there were some strong indicators. That, unfortunately, also meant he was never required to register as a sex offender. Anyway, five years into his sentence, he was suspected of beating and raping a fellow prisoner, twenty five years old Zach Stanworth, a convicted child molester, before stabbing him to death with a shank made out of a turkey bone. Creative and yucky at the same time. There was no conclusive evidence, but he still spent a year in solitary. Sadly, he was otherwise a model prisoner. He did get a tattoo in prison though, as you would expect. I say "sadly" because he was paroled in 2014, after serving fifteen years. He's been a free man ever since, though not for long, I hope."

"That, sadly, is not too uncommon," Spencer commented. "Edmund Kemper murdered his grandparents when he was fifteen. He was places in a psychiatric facility, released after turning twenty one, and went on to murder eight women, including his mother and her best friend. Arthur Shawcross was convicted of raping and murdering two children back in 1978, was released on parole in 1990, and went on to murder at least eleven women, mostly prostitutes and homeless women. A few months after his release from prison, parole board even sealed his criminal record because, he had trouble finding a permanent residence due to public outrageous. They said: "We had to put him somewhere.""

"Soon after his release, Michael changed his name to Chris and moved to the suburbs," Garcia read. "He soon landed a job as a cook and, eventually, a chef in Giovanni's. He inherited his house from a distant relative who lived in Detroit and died shortly before Chris was released. A house located in a pretty isolated part of the suburbs, where neighbors are few and far between, judging by Google images. The basement of the house also happens to be soundproofed, because the original owner used to grow pigeons and canaries in there. Chris was the only remaining family, so he got the place. Chris changed his social security number too. For the first two years of his probation, he was required to wear a parole device, but he was reevaluated in 2016, when it was determined that was no longer necessary."

"I smell a new Netflix series: "Enabling a murderer"," Rossi commented.

"You know, Giovanni's, where Chris works, is located near the police station," Spencer noted, frowning. "I bet cops eat there all the time. During the lunch break, after the shift..."

"Like all the other customers, they let their guard down," Emily concluded. "They talk about their day, their work, what they have done, what they are supposed to do... they think nobody is listening."

"But Chris does, I'd bet," Luke concluded. "From the kitchen. He knows what neighborhoods are under heavy police surveillance, due to a serial killer on the loose."

"And while preparing for the murders, he must have heard about which areas are frequented by prostitutes, which neighborhoods are under low police surveillance, maybe even what some of the known "working girls" look like," Tara figured. "That's how he and Lyndsay know where to find the prostitutes who match his victim type, how to lure them effectively, how to avoid police patrols..."

"And a police scanner and careful canvasing of such areas provided him with even more of the necessary information," Matt said.

"Penelope mentioned that Chris usually works afternoon shifts, while Lyndsay usually works morning shift," JJ noted. "So, they both have time to torture the victims together, early in the morning, and at night. And in the mean time, at least one spouse is at home, keeping an eye on the victim, possibly torturing them alone. Early in the morning, after three days, they kill the victim and dispose of the body."

"I just pulled out their work records... both Chris and Lyndsay Benes took a day off today," Garcia informed them, fear and disgust evident in her voice.

"They're escalating, and they know that the risk of them getting caught is increasing," Rossi concluded. "They want to take their time with this victim."

"What about Lyndsay Benes?" Emily asked, eager to learn more about the second unsub. "What's her story."

"Lyndsay Benes, maiden name Matthews, was born on September 14th 1992 in Hamtramck," Penelope read, already trying to push all the gory details to the back of her mind. "That is the Hamtramck connection. According to social service records, Lyndsay's mother suffered from a bipolar disorder. She was often emotionally abusive towards Lyndsay, and she'd often cheat on her husband with both men and women, sometimes while Lyndsay was in the house. Social services investigated the family several times, due to reports filed by neighbors and teachers, but they were unable to prove anything. Lyndsay was unwilling to testify, the father insisted everything was all right, no evidence of physical or sexual abuse. Lyndsay's mother committed suicide by hanging herself when Lyndsay was eleven. Lyndsay found her body when she returned home from school."

David groaned. "Another terrible childhood."

"And I'm sure it just kept going downhill from there," Tara suspected.

"You're quite right," Penelope confirmed, sounding both disgusted and saddened. "At the age of thirteen, Lyndsay attempted suicide by jumping into a lake near the school she was going to. She spent three months in a child psych ward and changed schools soon after being released. At the age of fifteen, she was accused of participating in a gang rape. Apparently, three boys raped a teenage girl at a party while Lyndsay watched everything and videotaped the crime. The case fell apart because the victim was too ashamed to testify and the videotape that the police found in Lyndsay's room was ruled an inadmissible evidence due to a technicality. The victim committed suicide a month later. Soon afterward, Lyndsay's father pulled the stakes and they moved to Detroit."

"Always protecting their children, even when it's too late," JJ commented.

"A year later, when Lyndsay was sixteen years old, she attempted to strangle a fourteen year old girl, her neighbor, to death," Penelope explained. "Lyndsay was deemed mentally incompetent, having been diagnosed with a bipolar disorder, pathological embitterment and asphyxiophilia. She was released from mental institution once she turned eighteen. While being institutionalized, she was prescribed Carbamazepine, that she continued taking for years since her release. She also attended anger management counseling for two years following her release. Within two years, she graduated medical school and soon got a job as a nurse at a city hospital, where she still works. I guess they didn't run a detailed background check on her, but even if they did, her juvenile record was sealed."

"Carbamazepine decreases sex drive," Spencer said. "It probably helped her keep her urges under control."

"I pulled her medical records," Penelope continued. "In February 2014, Lyndsay was prescribed Lamotrigine instead, due to becoming too resilliant to Carbamazepine. Around the same time, she was ordered to attend the anger management counseling again."

"Probably because the new drug didn't work so well," Matt concluded. "Her urges and fantasies started resurfacing, they were getting more difficult to control."

"Interesting thing; Chris Benes was attending the same counseling following his release from prison," Penelope read. "It was a part of his probation. They got married a year later, with Lyndsay taking Chris' last name and moving in with him."

"They must have met there," Matt figured.

"A match made in Hell," David commented.

"For the first year of marriage, they were probably able to satisfy their urges by rough sex, roleplaying and violent pornography," Emily suggested.

"Then they started picking up and abusing prostitutes that resembled Chris' mother," David concluded. "And Lyndsay's, to an extent. They knew that they were unlikely to report them. And they'd give them Rohypnol after raping them to make sure they'll remember as little as possible."

"But, after a while, that got boring too," Emily concluded.

"But isn't it kind of odd they wouldn't start murdering right away?" Matt asked. "Thes had both murdered or attempted to murder someone already."

"Not really," Emily explained. "For both of them, that was the first time working together, as a team. They were still "finding their way". They knew the victims wouldn't remember anything if they drugged them, and that prostitutes were unlikely to report them anyway. Besides, they knew murders would attract more police attention. Ultimately, that is what they wanted, but they weren't ready to take such a risk yet. Especially since they both had a prior criminal record."

"Christine Hodgins was the last straw," Spencer explained. "She attacked them, threatened to report them. She escaped before they were able to force her to take Rohypnol. They didn't get caught, but it was close. They decided that they had to start killing their victims. Eliminate the witnesses while embracing their violent fantasies to the fullest extent."

"Chris was abused and mistreated by his mother his entire childhood," Emily explained. "Once he finally murdered her, the news about the murder and his subsequent arrest and trial were likely suppressed and overlooked due to a High school massacre that happened the same day. Lyndsay had to keep her fantasies bottled up for years. Once she switched medications, it all started coming back. No wonder that they also wanted attention, to shock the locals and the authorities. Despite the risks."

"But that didn't turn out the way they planned," Luke added. "The first murder went almost unnoticed, despite its brutal nature. Shermain Jones happened to discover the second victim and dispose of her body, further disrupting their plans. He also spread the word that he will find out who is hurting "working girls" and "punish that bastard". Maybe his warning reached them too. They got concerned, their ego was hurt..."

"And there was another serial killer active in Detroit," Matt pointed out. "Targeting children. He was getting lots of attention."

JJ sighed. "Chuck Winters."

"So, Chris and Lyndsay decided to get to the top," Tara concluded. "Over dead bodies."

"First, they tracked down the child killer, Chuck Winters," Luke reasoned. "Probably spent some time around those abduction sights, while keeping a safe distance away from patrols... like Chuck... noticed him, followed him... maybe even made a geographic profile and saw that he lives in the right area."

"Finally, they abducted a young girl from Hamtramck, Kerri Jensen, and used her as a bait," Matt mentioned. "Probably even had her walk near Chuck's house, maybe even come to his door."

"Once he made the movie... grabbed her, tried chloroforming her... Chris and Lyndsay attacked," David concluded. "They tasered them both, restrained them, put them in the SUV, and transported them to their home."

"Right into the basement," Emily elaborated.

"They killed the girl quickly," Matt pointed out. "They aren't interested in children. But they took their time with Chuck."

"He was stealing their spotlight," Tara explained. "They decided to teach him a lesson."

"Then they lied low for two weeks," Spencer continued. "Waiting for the dust to settle, for everyone to get their guard down. Then they went after Shermain."

"After two more weeks, they went back to their preferred victim type and M.O.," David said. "They murdered another prostitute. They read about the plans for that field being turned into a jogging path. So they dumped the bodies there, and they dumped body in the woods. She wasn't "good enough". She didn't mean much to them."

"Or maybe she did, and they felt some remorse, or egoistical shame, over murdering a child," Tara suggested. "So they dumped her body on another location, in a ditch, and covered her with leaves and branches."

"Sounds like you put all the pieces together, like always," Penelope complimented them. "And I just sent you their home and work address, and all the other info."

"Thank you, Penelope!" Spencer exclaimed before disconnecting.

Emily turned to face detective Caal. "Can you get us a warrant, fast?"

"I'll do my best," he promised, a determined look on his face. "With some luck, we'll have it within two hours."

#

The full moon shone on Detroit's night skyline, moonlight falling upon its dark alleys and long roads, as a sharp autumn wind blew down the block. Luke parked the SUV about a hundred feet away from the house, so the unsubs wouldn't spot them and hurt someone, or try to escape. Detective John Caal parked his patrol car, with lights and syren off, and Spencer Reid and officer Aubrey Bellick inside, a few feet behind the SUV. Everyone immediately got out of the vehicle, drawing their weapons, and started approaching the house, carefully observing their surroundings as they did. Once they entered the yard, Emily, Luke and Matt headed toward the basement, while Spencer, detective John Caal and officer Aubrey Bellick headed for the front door.

Emily pressed at the door knob; the basement door was, not surprisingly, locked. Meanwhile, detective John Caal tried opening the front door. That door, too, was locked.

Emily and Matt stepped aside as Luke braces himself. Detective John Caal also gestured for Spencer and Aubrey to step aside.

A loud bang echoed through the yard as Luke kicked the basement door in. Almost that same moment, John kicked the front door in. Immediately afterward, they all rushed inside the house, guns drawn, yelling: "Freeze! FBI!"

Brittany was lying on the basement floor, completely naked, her body covered with cuts and bruises, her wrists tied up. The camera, still running, was standing on a near by tripod, recording her. Chris Benes was towering over her, a ceramic knife in his gloved hand. Lyndsay Benes was standing behind the camera, videotaping the torture.

As soon as agents ran into the basement, Chris jumped behind Brittany, then immediately gripped at her forearm. He pulled her up and then closer to him before pressing the knife against her throat. Lyndsay, who way closer to the inner door into the house, ran toward that door, quickly unlocked it and ran upstairs, into the house. Emily, Luke and Matt decided to stay in the basement; they wanted to make sure that Chris would surrender as peacefully as possible, and they knew that Spencer, John and Aubrey were upstairs, ready to arrest Lindsay, who had no choice but to encounter them while making her getaway, and was, as far as they had noticed, unarmed.

"Chris Benes, it's over!" Emily screamed. "Let this woman go!"

"Make one step forward and I'm gonna cut her throat!" Chris threatened, ignoring Emily's order.

"You make a single cut and we'll shoot you dead!" Luke replied, keeping Chris at gunpoint.

Chris smirked. "Yeah, but you better make sure you don't accidentally hit her instead," he taunted, pulling Brittany closer to him as she whimpered. "Besides, I'd rather die than go back to prison anyway."

Meanwhile, Lyndsay Benes quickly made her way upstairs, running as fast as she could. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard multiple footsteps running from the hallway, approaching her. She started running toward the other end of the house, heading for the back door, but, realizing that the police was soon to corner her, she changed her course in the middle and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed a steak knife from a kitchen knife set and cowered behind the west wall, carefully picking into the hallway as she did, holding the knife tightly in her hand. Within seconds, Spencer, John and Aubrey entered the hallway, and soon split up; Spencer headed into the living room, John headed into the bathroom, and Aubrey headed into the kitchen. Lyndsay gulped, gripping at the knife. As soon as Aubrey stepped into the kitchen, her gun drawn, Lyndsay launched herself at him, plunging the blade into Aubrey's right hand.

Aubrey screamed as pain ripped through her muscles, her hand growing weak, the grip on her gun loosening. She dropped the gun, nearly collapsing on the floor. Waiting no time, Lindsay stabbed her in the throat. Aubrey fell down as her larynx started filling with blood. Now in an adrenaline-fueled frenzy, Lyndsay stabbed her again, this time in the heart.

By that point, Spencer and John ran into the kitchen, guns drawn, having been alerted by Aubrey's scream.

"Lyndsay Benes, drop the knife!" Spencer screamed, both him and John keeping Lyndsay at gunpoint as Aubrey was sobbing and writhing on the floor, struggling to breathe, her face pale, her neck, chest and right hand soaked with blood that was still gushing out of her wounds.

Lyndsay just stared back at them, an angry look on her face. Surrendering was the last thing on her mind, but she knew that the knife was no match to two guns. Soon, her eyes wandered on to Aubrey's service weapon, laying on the floor a few feet away. It didn't take Lyndsay long to make her next move, despite the risks. Still with a knife in one hand, she quickly bent over and reached for Aubrey's gun.

Spencer fired immediately, but Lyndsay moved away in the last second, barely dodging a bullet, which shot through the kitchen window. Due to that sudden maneuveur, she didn't manage to take Aubrey's gun. She also lost balance and landed on the kitchen floor, behind the table. She also dropped the knife, which rolled under a near by cupboard.

Spencer ran over to Lyndsay, while John rushed to Aubrey's aid. Before Lyndsay could brace herself, Spencer gripped at her arms, turned her around, pulled her arms behind her back and handcuffed her.

John was holding Aubrey's hand as he used the police radio to call an ambulance. Aubrey tried to say something, but all that came out was blood dripping out of her mouth, her chest heaving with shallow, drowned breathing.

"Everything will be all right," John tried assuring her, doing his best to sound calm. "Don't be afraid, help is on the way."

"Press these against the wounds!" Spencer yelled as he grabbed two kitchen cloths from the table and handed them to John.

In the basement, Chris shuddered at the sound of a gunshot going off upstairs. He looked up for a moment, bit he quickly turned his attention back to Brittany, and BAU agents. He pressed the blade harder against Brittany's throat, making her sob.

"You heard that, Chris?" Matt asked, referring to the gunshot. "This is serious. We've got you both cornered, surrounded. We are all armed. Your wife could easily get hurt. You don't want that, do you?"

"She's better off dead than spending the rest of her life in prison, or going back to the whack sack," Chris spat out. "And even if we both surrender, and survive, we will never see each other again. Except, maybe, during the trial. Screw that!"

"Then how come you still haven't made your move?" Emily questioned. "Why not just get shot? You don't want that, Chris. And you don't want that for Lyndsay, either. You two have murdered nine people together. You've eluded authorities for months. What's the point of that much effort if you will never get to enjoy the notoriety?"

"That is why you were mailing those hands to the press, right?" Luke continued, keeping Chris at gunpoint the whole time. "You've been to prison, Chris. You know that serial killers are on top. You can brag, gloat, give out interviews... as long as you're alive, nobody will ever forget you."

"Come on, man," Matt said. "Let the woman go and drop the knife. You've put up too much effort into all of this to potentially get killed during a stand-off."

Chris just stared back at them for a few moments, completely silent. Then he let Brittany go, pushed her away, and dropped the knife. Brittany sobbed, relieved and Horrified at once. Emily rushed over to untie her and comfort her, while Matt holstering his gun and walked over to Chris, with Luke still keeping him at gunpoint. He quickly handcuffed Chris, searched him for weapons, then led him outside, toward the patrol car.

In the kitchen, Spencer led Lyndsay outside, as John pressed cloths against Aubrey's wounds, trying to stop her bleeding. Before Spencer could exit the kitchen, he stopped and took a look at Aubrey. Just at that moment, her chest stopped moving, and her eyes became dull and lifeless. Spencer stared at her, hoping she'd show some signs of life. She didn't. John called out her name, twice. She didn't answer. John looked up at Spencer, his teary eyes meeting Spencer's widened, bloodshot ones. "She's dead", John declared, his words echoing like a bomb blast through that wretched home.

#

None of them talked much during the flight back to Quantico. JJ was asleep on her seat. David and Tara were typing on their tablets, exchanging a few silent words every now and then. Luke and Matt were sitting in the very end of the plane, sipping drinks from a mini bar and talking, silently. Spencer was sitting slumped in a seat to the left, gazing through the window tiredly. At first, he didn't even hear Emily approach him. He turned to face her once she sat down on the chair opposite to him. Their eyes met.

"Hey... you all right?" she asked softly, giving him a slight but warm smile.

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Not really, to be honest," he admitted, his voice more silent than usual. "I was there... and I didn't... I couldn't save her," he whispered, blinking back tears.

"Detective Caal told me what happened," Emily said, maintaining an eye contact with Spencer. "Neither you nor he did anything wrong. None of us did, except for Lyndsay Benes, and her husband. And Lyndsay simply managed to get an upper hand. This is a dangerous job. And bad things happen. But it is worth it in the end."

"Are you sure?" Spencer commented more than asked, an exhausted expression on his face.

Emily smiled slightly. "I have to be." She frowned, fondling her hands together. "Aren't you good with statistics? Don't you know that male serial killers usually murder up to three to four years before getting caught? While female serial killers often go on murdering for seven to ten years before getting caught. These two had been killing people for two months, and then we caught them. We. You've done an amazing profile work on this case, Spencer. You can't say that doesn't feel good."

"Life isn't statistics, Emily," Spencer pointed out, his voice hoarse and his lips dry.

"And life also isn't fair, not always," she said, determined and sympathetic in the same time. "But we stopped them. And we did save someone. Jane Danieles, for once. And Brittany Smith. She has a sick mother, and a young son. Spencer, I've seen it; no matter what happens to you, or the others, you always get up and continue catching bad guys. You're alive and well, you're still fighting against them. And they are all either dead or in prison. And all the other people they could have killed if they hadn't been caught sooner are alive. What happened to Aubrey is sad. And it is human to be affected by it. But you have to stop beating yourself up over such things. Don't blame yourself. Don't lose sight of a bigger picture. You are a hero, Spencer. Don't you ever forget that. Ever." She smiled. "But, first, you could try and get some sleep. You need it."

Spencer smiled slightly in return, some color finally returning to his face. "Thank you."

"Any time," Emily replied softly, nodding her head.

Spencer leaned back in his seat and closed her eyes, as the jet continued flying over the pitch black skyline, on its way back to Quantico.

Emily Prentiss: "No matter how hard evil tries, it can never quite match up to the power of good, because evil is ultimately self-destructive. Evil may set out to corrupt others, but in the process corrupts itself. John Connolly."

~THE END~

 **A/N: And it's over. I hope you enjoyed this story. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! I wish you the best.**

 **Love, Mislav :)**


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